I Will Repay: A Romance

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http : //books . google . com/

SIMFOED "VMVERSITY" UBMRY

^Ut^ O^c^t^i

Colonial g^ttfoit

I WILL REPAY

Bp tH Sa«e Mtmrn

THB SCARLET PIMPBRNSL
BY THE GODS BELOVED
THE EMPEROR'S CANDLESTICKS
A SON OF THE PEOPLE.

f

x3

^

^ ^

3f •>* '

...,. ' -'•

• ^- ••:.;•■• ;«•

.^••i?-\-

• ■ • ^^

■•-•-*.•.,-..•

■■■»M-»i:aiitt^' ■

I b ■ '■'-.

'3-^ .; J

1 'i f-^ ■

.'1

I WILL REPAY

B l^onutnce

BY THB

BARONESS QRCZY

KufgiuuM is mim; IwiUnpay^ saUk thi ZtfmH"— ROM. ziL 19.

Xon^on

GREENING & CO. LTD.

1906

AB Mkhit Rmrp$d

Copyright in Great Britain and Inland^ in tMs Dominion of Canada
and in the United States of America

September tqob

ALL DRAMATIC RIGHTS STRICTLY RESERVED
BY THB AUTHOR

A MA UtKE

CONTENTS

Prologub

I. Paris: 1783 9

II 35

Chaptbr

I. Paris: 1793 — The Outrage ... 39

II. Citizen-Deputy 53

III. Hospitality 63

IV. The Faithful House-dog 71
V. A Day in the Woods - ... 75

VI. The Scarlet Pimpernel • ... 88

VII. A Warning 98

vin. Anns Mie 103

IX. Jealousy 113

X. Denunciation 117

XI. "Vengeance is mine** . . . .127

XII. The Sword of Damocles . . . .141

xiiL Tangled Meshes 160

XIV. A Happy Moment 167

XV. Detected 174

XVI. Under Arrest 186

XVII. Atonement 194

vii

YUl

CONTENTS

Chaptbr
XVIII. In the Luxembourg Prison .

PAGE
20I

XIX.

Complexities .

207

XX.

The Chbval Borgne

2X6

XXI.

A Jacobin Orator .

228

XXII.

The Close of Day .

239

XXIII.

Justice ....

250

XXIV.

The Trial of Juliette

. 258

XXV.

The Defence .

268

XXVI.

Sentence of Death

283

XXVII.

The Fructidor Riots

287

XXVIII.

The Unexpected

296

XXIX.

TtRE Lachaise

307

XXX.

Conclusion

320

I WILL REPAY

PROLOGUE
I

PARIS: 1783

" Coward ! Coward ! Coward ! "

The words rang out, clear, strident, passion-
ate, in a crescendo of agonised humiliation.

The boy, quivering with rage, had sprung
to his feet, and, losing his balance, he fell for-
ward clutching at the table, whilst with a con-
vulsive movement of the lids, he tried in vain
to suppress the tears of shame which were
blinding him.

" Coward ! " He tried to shout the insult so
that all might hear, but his parched throat re-
fused him service, his trembling hands sought
the scattered cards upon the table, he collected
them together, quickly, nervously, fingering
them with feverish energy, then he hurled them
at the man opposite, whilst with a final effort
he still contrived to mutter : " Coward ! "

The older men tried to interpose, but the
young ones only laughed, quite prepared for the

9

lo I WILL REPAY

adventure which must inevitably ensue, the
only possible ending to a quarrel such as this.

Conciliation or arbitration was out of the
question. D6roulMe should have known better
than to speak disrespectfully of Adile de
Montch6ri, when the little Vicomte de Marny's
infatuation for the notorious beauty had been
the ^talk of Paris and Versailles these many
months past.

Adde was very lovely and a veritable tower
of greed and egotism. The Marnys were rich
and the little Vicomte very young, and just
now the brightly-plumaged hawk was busy
plucking the latest pigeon, newly arrived from
its ancestral cote.

The boy was still in the initial stage of his
infatuation. To him Adde was a paragon of
all the virtues, and he would have done battle
on her behalf against the entire aristocracy of
France, in a vain endeavour to justify his own
exalted opinion of one of the most dissolute
women of the epoch. He was a first-rate
swordsman too, and his friends had already
learned that it was best to avoid all allusions to
Adde s beauty and weaknesses.

But D6roul6de was a noted blunderer. He
was little versed in the manners and tones of
that high society in which, somehow, he still
seemed an intruder. But for his great wealth,
no doubt, he never would have been admitted

PROLOGUE II

within the intimate circle of aristocratic France.
His ancestry was somewhat doubtful and his
coat-of-arms unadorned with quarterings.

But little was known of his family or the
origin of its wealth ; it was only known that his
father had suddenly become the late King's
dearest friend, and commonly surmised that
D6roul^e gold had on more than one occasion
filled the emptied coffers of the First Gentleman
of France.

D6roul^de had not sought the present quarrel.
He had merely blundered in that clumsy way
of his, which was no doubt a part of the in-
heritance bequeathed to him by his bourgeois
ancestry.

He knew nothing of the little Vicomte's
private affairs, still less of his relationship with
Adde, but he knew enough of the world and
enough of Paris to be acquainted with the lady's
reputation. He hated at all times to speak of
women. He was not what in those days would
be termed a ladies' man, and was even somewhat
unpopular with the sex. But in this instance
the conversation had drifted in that direction,
and when Ad^le's name was mentioned, every
one became silent, save the little Vicomte, who
waxed enthusiastic.

A shrug of the shoulders on D6roul6de's part
had aroused the boy's ire, then a few casual
wprds, and, without further warning, the insult

12 I WILL REPAY

had been hurled and the cards thrown in the
older man's face.

D^roul^de did not move from his seat. He
sat erect and placid, one knee crossed over the
other, his serious, rather swarthy face perhaps
a shade paler than usual : otherwise it seemed
as if the insult had never reached his ears, or
the cards struck his cheek.

He had perceived his blunder, just twenty
seconds too late. Now he was sorry for the
boy and angered with himself, but it was too
late to draw back. To avoid a conflict he
would at this moment have sacrificed half his
fortune, but not one particle of his dignity.

He knew and respected the old Due de
Marny, a feeble old man now, almost a dotard,
whose hitherto spotless blason, the young
Vicomte, his son, was doing his best to be-
smirch.

When the boy fell forward, blind and drunk
with rage, D^roul^e leant towards him auto-
matically, quite kindly, and helped him to his
feet. He would have asked the lad*s pardon
for his own thoughtlessness, had that been
possible : but the stilted code of so - called
honour forbade so logical a proceeding. It
would have done no good, and could but im-
peril his own reputation without averting the
traditional sequel.

The panelled walls of the celebrated gaming

PROLOGUE 13

saloon had often witnessed scenes such as this.
All those present acted by routine. The eti-
quette of duelling prescribed certain formalities,
and these were strictly but rapidly adhered to.

The young Vicomte was quickly surrounded
by a close circle of friends. His great name,
his wealth, his father's influence, had opened
for him every door in Versailles and Paris.
At this moment he might have had an army of
seconds to support him in the coming conflict.

D^roul^de for a while was left alone mear
the card table, where the unsnuffed candles
began smouldering in their sockets. He had
risen to his feet, somewhat bewildered at the
rapid turn of events. His dark, restless eyes
wandered for a moment round the room, as if
in quick search for a friend.

But where the Vicomte was at home by
right, D6roul6de had only been admitted by
reason of his wealth. His acquaintances and
sycophants were many, but his friends very few.

For the first time this fact was brought home
to hita. Every one in the room must have
known and realised that he had not wilfully
sought this quarrel, that throughout he had
borne himself as any gentleman would, yet
now, when the issue was so close at hand, no
one came forward to stand by him.

" For form's sake, monsieur, will you choose
your seconds ? "

14 I WILL REPAY

It was the young Marquis de Villefranche
who spoke, a little haughtily, with a certain
ironical condescension towards the rich par-
venu, who was about to have the honour of
crossing swords with one of the noblest gentle-
men in France.

" I pray you, Monsieur le Marquis," rejoined
D^roul^de coldly, " to make the choice for me.
You see, I have few friends in Paris."

The Marquis bowed, and gracefully flour-
ished his lace handkerchief. He was accus-
tomed to being appealed to in all matters
pertaining to etiquette, to the toilet, to the
latest cut in coats, and the procedure in duels.
Good-natured, foppish, and idle, he felt quite
happy and in his element thus to be made chief
organiser of the tragic farce, about to be en-
acted on the parquet floor of the gaming saloon*

He looked about the room for a while,
scrutinising the faces of those around him.
The gilded youth was crowding round De
Marny ; a few older men stood in a group at
the farther end of the room : to these the
Marquis turned, and addressing one of them,
an elderly man with a military bearing and a
shabby brown coat :

" Mon Colonel," he said, with another flour-
ishing bow ; " I am deputed by M. D^roulMe
to provide him with seconds for this affair of
honour, may I call upon you to "

PROLOGUE 15

"Certainly, certainly," replied the Colonel.
'' I am not intimately acquainted with M.
D^roul^de, but since you stand sponsor, M. le
Marquis '*

"Oh!" rejoined the Marquis, lightly, "a
mere matter of form, you know. M. D6rou-
l^de belongs to the entourage of Her Majesty.
He is a man of honour. But I am not his
sponsor. Marny is my friend, and if you
prefer not to "

" Indeed I am entirely at M. D6roul6de's
service," said the Colonel, who had thrown a
quick, scrutinising glance at the isolated figure
near the card table, "if he will accept my
services "

" He will be very glad to accept, my dear
Colonel," whispered the Marquis with an ironical
twist of his aristocratic lips. " He has no friends
in our set, and if you and De Quettare will hon-
our him, I think he should be grateful."

M. de Quettare, adjutant to M. le Colonel,
was ready to follow in the footsteps of his chief,
and the two men, after the prescribed salutations
to M. le Marquis de Villefranche, went across
to speak to D^roul^de.

" If you will accept our services, monsieur,"
began the Colonel abruptly, "mine, and my
adjutant's, M. de Quettare, we place ourselves
entirely at your disposal."

" I thank you, messieurs," rejoined D6roul6de.

i

i6 I WILL REPAY

" The whole thing is a farce, and that young
man is a fool ; but I have been in the wrong
and "

"You would wish to apologise?" queried
the Colonel icily.

The worthy soldier had heard something of
D6roul6de's reputed bourgeois ancestry. This
suggestion of an apology was no doubt in ac-
cordance with the customs of the middle-classes,
but the Colonel literally gasped at the unworthi-
ness of the proceeding. An apology ? Bah !
Disgusting ! cowardly ! beneath the dignity of
any gentleman, however wrong he might be.
How could two soldiers of His Majesty's army
identify themselves with such doings ?

But D^roulMe seemed unconscious of the
enormity of his suggestion.

" If I could avoid a conflict," he said, " I
would tell the Vicomte that I had no knowledge
of his admiration for the lady we were discuss-
ing and "

** Are you so very much afraid of getting
a sword scratch, monsieur?" interrupted the
Colonel impatiently, whilst M. de Quettare
elevated a pair of aristocratic eyebrows in be-
wilderment at such an extraordinary display of
bourgeois cowardice.

"You mean, Monsieur le Colonel?"

queried D6roul6de.

•* That you must either fight the Vicomte de

PROLOGUE 17

Marny to-night, or clear out of Paris to-morrow.
Your position in our set would become unten-
able," retorted the Colonel, not unkindly, for
in spite of D^roul^de's extraordinary attitude,
there was nothing in his bearing or his appear-
ance that suggested cowardice or fear.

"I bow to your superior knowledge of your
friends, M. le Colonel," responded D^roul^de,
as he silently drew his sword from its sheath.

The centre of the saloon was quickly cleared.
The seconds measured the length of the swords
and then stood behind the antagonists, slightly
in advance of the groups of spectators, who
stood massed all round the room.

They represented the flower of what France
had of the best and noblest in name, in lineage,
in chivalry, in that year of grace 1783. The
storm-cloud which a few years hence was des-
tined to break over their heads, sweeping them
from their palaces to the prison and the guillo-
tine, was only gathering very slowly in the dim
horizon of squalid, starving Paris : for the next
half-dozen years they would still dance and
gamble, fight and flirt, surround a tottering
throne, and hoodwink a weak monarch. The
Fates' avenging sword still rested in its sheath ;
the relentless, ceaseless wheel still bore them up
in their whirl of pleasure ; the downward move-
ment had only just begun : the cry of the op-
pressed children of France had not yet been

4

i8 I WILL REPAY

heard above the din of dance music and lovers'
serenades.

The young Due de Ch&teaudun was there,
he who, nine years later, went to the guillotine
on that cold September morning, his hair dressed
in the latest fashion, the finest Mechlin lace
around his wrists, playing a final game of
piquet with his younger brother, as the tum-
bril bore them along through the hooting, yell-
ing crowd of the half- naked starvelings of
Paris.

There was the Vicomte de Mirepoix, who, a
flw years later, standing on the platform of the
guillotine, laid a bet with M. de Miranges that
his own blood would flow bluer than that of any
othir head cut off that day in France. Citizen
Samson heard the bet made, and when De
Mirepoix*s head fell into the basket, the heads-
man lifted it up for M. de Miranges to see.
The latter laughed.

'' Mirepoix was always a braggart," he said
lightly, as he laid his head upon the block.
•* Who'll take my bet that my blood turns out
to be bluer than his ? "

But of all these comedies, these tragico-
farces of later years, none who were present on
that night, when the Vicomte de Marny fought
Paul D6roulMe, had as yet any presentiment.

They watched the two men fighting, with
the same casual interest, at first, which they

PROLOGUE 19

would havif bestowed on the dancing of a new
movement in the minuet.

De Marny came of a race that had wielded
the sword for many centuries, but he was hot,
excited, not a little addled with wine and rage.
D6roul6de was lucky ; he would come out of
the affair with a slight scratch.

A good swordsman too, that wealthy parvenu.
It was interesting to watch his sword-play :
very quiet at first, no feint or parry, scarcely
a riposte, only en garde, always en garde very
carefully, steadily, ready for his antagonist at
every turn and in every circumstance.

Gradually the circle round the combatants
narrowed. A few discreet exclamations of ad-
miration greeted D6roulMe's most successful
parry. De Marny was getting more and
more excited, the older man more and more
sober and reserved.

A thoughtless lunge placed the little Vicomte
at his opponent's mercy. The next instant he
was disarmed, and the seconds were pressing
forward to end the conflict.

Honour was satisfied : the parvenu and the
scion of the ancient race had crossed swords
over the reputation of one of the most dis-
sdiute women in France. D6roul6de's modera-
tion was a lesson to all the hot-headed young
bloods who toyed with their lives, their hon-
our, their reputation as. lightly as they did with

20 I WILL REPAY

their lace-edged handkerchiefs and gold snuff-
boxes.

Already D^roul^e had drawn back. With
the gentle tact peculiar to kindly people, he
avoided looking at his disarmed antagonist
But something in the older man's attitude
seemed to further nettle the over-stimulated
sensibility of the young Vicomte.

" This is no child's play, monsieur/' he said
excitedly. '' I demand full satisfaction."

" And are you not satisfied ? " queried D6rou-
l^e. ** You have borne yourself bravely, you
have fought in honour of your liege lady. I,
on the other hand "

** You," shouted the boy hoarsely, " you shall
publicly apologise to a noble and virtuous woman
whom you have outraged — now — at once — on
your knees "

'* You are mad, Vicomte," rejoined D^roul^e
coldly. " I am willing to ask your forgiveness
for my blunder "

"An apology — in public — on your knees "

The boy had become more and more excited.
He had suffered humiliation after humiliation.
He was a mere lad, spoilt, adulated, pampered
from his boyhood : the wine had got into his
head, the intoxication of rage and hatred blinded
his saner judgment.

** Coward ! " he shouted again and again.

His seconds tried to interpose, but he waved

PROLOGUE 21

them feverishly aside. He would listen to no
one. He saw no one save the man who had
insulted Adde, and who was heaping further
insults upon her, by refusing this public ac-
knowledgment of her virtues.

De Marny hated D6roul^de at this moment
with the most deadly hatred the heart of man
can conceive. The older man's calm, his
chivalry, his consideration only enhanced the
boy's anger and shame.

The hubbub had become general. Everyone
seemed carried away with this strange fever of
enmity, which was seething in the Vicomte's
veins. Most of the young men crowded round
De Marny, doing their best to pacify him. The
Marquis de Villefranche declared that the matter
was getting quite outside the rules.

No one took much notice of D6roul^de. In
the remote comers of the saloon a few elderly
dandies were laying bets as to the ultimate
issue of the quarrel.

D6roul^de, however, was beginning to lose
his temper. He had no friends in that room,
and therefore there was no sympathetic ob-
server there, to note the gradual darkening of
his eyes, like the gathering of a cloud heavy
with the coming storm.

" I pray you, messieurs, let us cease the ar-
gument," he said at last, in a loud, impatient
voice. ** M. le Vicomte de Marny desires a

i

22 I WILL REPAY

further lesson, and, by God ! he shall have it.
£« garde, M. le Vicomte ! "

The crowd quickly drew back. The seconds
once more assumed the bearing and imperturb-
able expression which their important function
demanded. The hubbub ceased as the swords
began to clash.

Everyone felt that farce was turning to
tragedy.

And yet it was obvious from the first that
D6roul6de merely meant once more to disarm
his antagonist, to give him one more lesson, a
little more severe perhaps than the last. He
was such a brilliant swordsman, and De Marny
was so excited, that the advantage was with
him from the very first.

How it all happened, nobody afterwards
could say. There is no doubt that the little
Vicomte's sword-play had become more and
more wild : that he uncovered himself in the
most reckless way, whilst lunging wildly at
his opponent's breast, until at last, in one of
these mad, unguarded moments, he seemed
literally to throw himself upon D6roulMe*s
weapon.

The latter tried with lightning-swift motion
of the wrist to avoid the fatal issue, but it was
too late, and without a sigh or groan, scarce a
tremor, the Vicomte de Marny fell.

The sword dropped out of his hand, and it

PROLOGUE 23

was D^roul^e himself who caught the boy in
his arms.

It had all occurred so quickly and suddenly
that no one had realised it all, until it was over,
and the lad was lying prone on the ground, his
elegant blue satin coat stained with red, and his
antagonist bending over him.

There was nothing more to be done. Eti-
quette demanded that D6roul^de should with-
draw. He was not allowed to do anything for
the boy whom he had so unwillingly sent to his
death.

As before, no one took much notice of him.
Silence, the awesome silence caused by the
presence of the great Master, fell upon all those
aroimd. Only in the far corner a shrill voice
was heard to say :

** I hold you at five hundred louis. Marquis.
The parvenu is a good swordsman."

The groups parted as D6roul6de walked out
of the room, followed by the Colonel and M. de
Quettare, who stood by him to the last. Both
were old and proved soldiers, both had chivalry
and courage in them, with which to do tribute
to the brave man whom they had seconded.

At the door of the establishment, they met
the leech who had been summoned some little
time ago to hold himself in readiness for any
eventuality.

The great eventuality had occurred : it was

24 I WILL REPAY

beyond the leech's learning. In the brilliantly
lighted saloon above, the only son of the Due
de Marny was breathing his last, whilst D6rou-
l^e, wrapping his mantle closely round him,
strode out into the dark street, all alone.

II

The head of the house of Marny was at this
time barely seventy years of age. But he had
lived every hour, every minute of his life, from
the day when the Grand Monarque gave him
his first appointment as gentleman page in
waiting when he was a mere lad, barely twelve
years of age, to the moment — some ten years
ago now — when Nature's relentless hand struck
him down in the midst of his pleasures, withered
him in a flash as she does a sturdy old oak, and
nailed him — sl cripple, almost a dotard — to the
invalid chair which he would only quit for his
last resting-place.

Juliette was then a mere slip of a girl, an old
man's child, the spoilt darling of his last happy
years» She had retained some of the melan-
choly which had characterised her mother,
the gentle lady who had endured so much so
patiently, and who had bequeathed this final
tender burden — her baby girl — to the brilliant,
handsome husband whom she had so deeply
loved, and so often forgiven.

When the Due de Marny entered the final
awesome stage of his gilded career, that death-
like life which he dragged on for ten years

25

i

26 I WILL REPAY

wearily to the grave, Juliette became his only
joy, his one gleam of happiness in the midst of
torturing memories.

In her deep, tender eyes he would see
mirrored the present, the future for her, and
would forget his past, with all its gaieties, its
mad, merry years, that meant nothing now but
bitter regrets, an endless rosary of the might-
have-beens.

And then there was the boy. The little
Vicomte, the future Due de Marny, who would
in Azs life and with Azs youth recreate the glory
of the family, and make France once more
ring with the echo of brave deeds and gallant
adventures, which had made the name of
Marny so glorious in camp and court

The Vicomte was not his father's love, but
he was his father's pride, and from the depths
of his huge, cushioned arm-chair, the old man
would listen with delight to stories from Ver-
sailles and Paris, the young Queen and the
fascinating Lamballe, the latest play and the
newest star in the theatrical firmament. His
feeble, tottering mind would then take him back,
along the paths of memory, to his own youth
and his own triumphs, and in the joy and pride
in his son, he would forget himself for the sake
of the boy.

When they brought the Vicomte home that
night, Juliette was the first to wake. She heard

PROLOGUE 27

the noise outside the great gates, the coach
slowly drawing up, the ring for the doorkeeper,
and the sound of Matthieu's mutterings, who
never liked to be called up in the middle of the
night to let anyone through the gates. *

Somehow a presentiment of evil at once struck
the young girl : the footsteps sounded so heavy
and muffled along the flagged courtyard, and up
the great oak staircase. It seemed as if they
were carrying something heavy, something
inert or dead.

She jumped out of bed and hastily wrapped
a cloak round her thin girlish shoulders, and
slipped her feet into a pair of heelless shoes,
then she opened her bedroom door and looked
out upon the landing.

Two men, whom she did not know, were walk-
ing upstairs abreast, two more were carrying a
heavy burden, and Matthieu was behind moan-
ing and crying bitterly.

Juliette did not move. She stood in the door-
way rigid as a statue. The little cortege went
past her. No one saw her, for the landings in
the Hotel deMarny are very wide, and Matthieu's
lantern only threw a dim, flickering light upon
the floor.

The men stopped outside the Vicomte's room.
Matthieu opened it, and then the five men dis-
appeared within, with their heavy burden.

A moment later old P6troneUe, viVvo \\aAL

28 I WILL REPAY

been Juliette's nurse, and was now her devoted
slave, came to her, all bathed in tears.

She had just heard the news, and she could
scarcely speak, but she folded the young girl,
her dear pet lamb, in her arms, and rocking her*
self to and fro she sobbed and eased her aching,
motherly heart.

But Juliette did not cry. It was all so sudden»
so awful. She, at fourteen years of age, had
never dreamed of death ; and now there was
her brother, her Philippe, in whom she had so
much joy, so much pride — ^he was dead — and
her father must be told

The awfulness of this task seemed to Juliette
like unto the last Judgment Day ; a thing so
terrible, so appalling, so impossible, that it
would take a host of angels to proclaim its
inevitableness.

The old cripple, with one foot in the grave,
whose whole feeble mind, whose pride, whose
final flicker of hope was concentrated in his
boy, must be told that the lad had been brought
home dead.

"Will you tell him, P6tronelle?" she asked
repeatedly, during the brief intervals when the
violence of the old nurse's grief subsided some-
what.

"No — no — darling, I cannot — I cannot — "
moaned P6tronelle, amidst a renewed shower
of sobs.

PROLOGUE 29

Juliette's entire soul — a child's soul it was —
rose in revolt at thought of what was before
her. She felt angered with God for having
put such a thing upon her. What right had
He to demand a girl of her years to endure so
much mental agony ?

To lose her brother, and to witness her
father's grief ! She couldn't! she couldn't! she
couldn't ! God was evil and unjust !

A distant tinkle of a bell made all her nerves
suddenly quiver. Her father was awake then ?
He had heard the noise, and was ringing his
bell to ask for an explanation of the disturbance.

With one quick movement Juliette jerked
herself free from her nurse's arms, and before
P6tronelle could prevent her, she had run out
of the room, straight across the dark landing
to a large panelled door opposite.

The old Due de Mamy was sitting on the
edge of his bed, with his long, thin legs dangling
helplessly to the ground.

Crippled as he was, he had struggled to this
upright position, he was making frantic, miser-
able efforts to raise himself still further. He,
too, had heard the dull thud of feet, the
shuffling gait of men when carrying a heavy
burden.

His mind flew back half-a-century, to the
days when he had witnessed scenes wherein
he was then merely a half-interested spectator.

I

30 1 WILL REPAY

He knew the cortege composed of valets and
friends, with the leech walking beside that
precious burden, which anon would be deposited
on the bed and left to the tender care of a
mourning family.

Who knows what pictures were conjured up
before that enfeebled vision ? But he guessed.
And when Juliette dashed into his room and
stood before him, pale, trembling, a world of
misery in her great eyes, she knew that he
guessed and that she need not tell him. God
had already done that for her.

Pierre, the old Due's devoted valet, dressed
him as quickly as he could. M. le Due insisted
on having his hahit de cirimonie^ the rich suit
of black velvet with the priceless lace and
diamond buttons, which he had worn when
they laid le Roi Soleil to his eternal rest.

He put on his orders and buckled on his
sword. The gorgeous clothes, which had suited
him so well in the prime of his manhood, hung
somewhat loosely on his attenuated frame, but
he looked a grand and imposing figure, with his
white hair tied behind with a great black bow,
and the fine jabot of beautiful point d' Angleterre
falling in a soft cascade below his chin.

Then holding himself as upright as he could,
he sat in his invalid chair, and four flunkeys
in full livery carried him to the deathbed of
his son.

PROLOGUE 31

All the house was astir by now. Torches
burned in great sockets in the vast hall and
along die massive oak stairway, and hundreds
of candles flickered ghostlike in the vast apart-
ments of the princely mansion.

The numerous servants were arrayed on the
landing, all dressed in the rich livery of the
ducal house.

The death of an heir of the Marnys is an
event that history makes a note of.

The old Due's chair was placed close to the
bed, where lay the dead body of the young
Vicomte. He made no movement, nor did he
utter a word or sigh. Some of those who were
present at the time declared that his mind had
completely given way, and that he neither felt
nor understood the death of his son.

The Marquis de Villefranche, who had fol-
lowed his friend to the last, took a final leave
of the sorrowing house.

Juliette scarcely noticed him. Her eyes
were fixed on her father. She would not look
at her brother. A childlike fear had seized
her, there, suddenly, between these two silent
figures : the living and the dead.

But just as the Marquis was leaving the
room, the old man spoke for the first time.

" Marquis," he said very quietly, " you
forget — you have not yet told me who killed
my son."

32 I WILL REPAY

"It was in fair fight, M. le Due," replied
the young Marquis, awed in spite of all his
frivolity, his light-heartedness, by this strange,
almost mysterious tragedy.

"Who killed my son, M. le Marquis?" re-
peated the old man mechanically. " I have the
right to know," he added with sudden, weird
energy.

" It was M. Paul D6roul6de, M. le Due," re-
plied the Marquis. " I repeat, it was in fair fight."

The old Due sighed as if in satisfaction.
Then with a courteous gesture of farewell
reminiscent of ^<t grand sihle he added :

"All thanks from me and mine to you,
Marquis, would seem but a mockery. Your
devotion to my son is beyond human thanks.
rU not detain you now. Farewell."

Escorted by two lacqueys, the Marquis passed
out of the room.

" Dismiss all the servants, Juliette ; I have
something to say," said the old Due, and the
young girl, silent, obedient, did as her father
bade her.

Father and sister were alone with their dead.

As soon as th^ last hushed footsteps of the
retreating servants died away in the distance.
The Due de Marny seemed to throw away the
lethargy which had enveloped him until now.
With a quick, feverish gesture he seized his
daughter's wrist, and murmured excitedly :

PROLOGUE ss

"His name. You heard his name, Juliette ? "

" Yes, father," replied the child.

**PauID6roul6de! Paul D6rouI6de ! You'll
not forget it?"

•'Never, father!"

"He killed your brother! You understand
that? Killed my only son, the hope of my
house, the last descendant of the most glorious
race that has ever added lustre to the history
of France."

" In fair fight, father I " protested the child.

'*Tis not fair for a man to kill a boy,"
retorted the old man, with furious energfy.
" D6roul6de is thirty : my boy was scarce out of
his teens : may the vengeance of God fall upon
the murderer ! "

Juliette, awed, terrified, was gazing at her
fatlier with great, wondering eyes. He seemed
unlike himself. His face wore a curious expres-
sion of ecstasy and of hatred, also of hope and
exultation, whenever he looked steadily at her.

That the final glimmer of a tottering reason
was fast leaving the poor, aching head she was
too young to realise. Madness was a word that
had only a vague meaning for her. Though
she did not understand her father at the present
moment, though she was half afraid of him, she
would have rejected with scorn and horror any
suggestion that he was mad.

Therefore when he took her hand and, draw-

i

34 I WILL REPAY

ing her nearer to the bed and to himself,
placed It upon her dead brother's breast, she
recoiled at the touch of the inanimate body, so
unlike anything she had ever touched before,
but she obeyed her father without any question,
and listened to his words as to those of a sage.

" Juliette, you are now fourteen, and able to
understand what I am going to ask of you. If
I were not chained to this miserable chair, if I
were not a hopeless, helpless, abject cripple,
I would not depute anyone, not even you, my
only child, to do that, which God demands that
one of us should do."

He paused a moment, then continued ear-
nestly :

"Remember, Juliette, that you are of the
house of Mamy, that you are a Catholic, and
that God hears you now. For you shall swear
an oath before Him and me, an oath from
which only death can relieve you. Will you
swear, my child ? "

" If you wish it, father."

"You have been to confession lately, Juliette?"

" Yes, father; also to holy communion, yester-
day," replied the child. "It was the F^te-
Dieu, you know."

" Then you are in a state of grace, my child ? "

" I was yesterday morning, father," replied
the young girl naively, " but I have committed
some little sins since then."

PROLOGUE ss

" Then make your confession to God in your
heart now. You must be in a state of grace
when you speak the oath."

The child closed her eyes, and as the old
man watched her, he could see the lips framing
the words of her spiritual confession.

Juliette made the sign of the cross, then
opened her eyes and looked at her father.

" I am ready, father," she said ; ** I hope
God has forgiven me the little sins of yesterday."

" Will you swear, my child ? "

'* What, father?"

" That you will avenge your brother s death
on his murderer ? "

*' But, father "

" Swear it, my child ! "

" How can I fulfil that oath, father? — I don't
understand "

'*God will guide you, my child. When you
are older you will understand."

For a moment Juliette still hesitated. She
was just on that borderland between childhood
and womanhood when all the sensibilities, the
nervous system, the emotions, are strung to
their highest pitch.

Throughout her short life she had worshipped
her father with a whole-hearted, passionate de-
votion, which had completely blinded her to his
weakening faculties and the feebleness of his
mind.

36 I WILL REPAY

She was also in that initial stage of en-
thusiastic piety which overwhelms every girl
of temperament, if she be brought up in the
Roman Catholic religion, when she is first
initiated into the mysteries of the Sacraments.

Juliette had been to confession and com-
munion. She had been confirmed by Mon-
seigneur, the Archbishop. Her ardent nature
had responded to the full to the sensuous and
ecstatic expressions of the ancient faith.

And somehow her father's wish, her brother's
death, all seemed mingled in her brain with that
religion, for which in her juvenile enthusiasm
she would willingly have laid down her life.

She thought of all the saints, whose lives
she had been reading. Her young heart
quivered at the thought of their sacrifices, their
martyrdoms, their sense of duty.

An exaltation, morbid perhaps, superstitious
and overwhelming, took possession of her mind ;
also, perhaps, far back in the innermost recesses
of her heart, a pride in her own importance,
her mission in life, her]^ individuality : for she
was a girl after all, a mere child, about to be-
come a woman.

But the old Due was waxing impatient.

'* Surely you do not hesitate, Juliette, with
your dead brother's body clamouring mutely
for revenge 'i You, the only Marny left now ! —
for from this day I too shall be as dead."

PROLOGUE yj

**No, father," said the young girl in an
awed whisper, •* I do not hesitate. I will
swear, just as you bid me."

" Repeat the words after me, my child."

'*Yes, father."

" Before the face of Almighty God, who
sees and hears me "

''Before the face of Almighty God, who
sees and hears me," repeated Juliette firmly.

'* I swear that I will seek out Paul D6rouldde."

'* I swear that I will seek out Paul D6roul^de."

" And in any manner which God may dictate
to me encompass his death, his ruin or dishon-
our, in revenge for my brother's death."

'* And in any manner which God may dictate
to me encompass his death, his ruin or dishon-
our, in revenge for my brother's death," said
Juliette solemnly.

" May my brother's soul remain in torment
until the final Judgment Day if I should break
my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the
day on which his death is fitly avenged."

** May my brother's soul remain in torment
until the final Judgment Day if I should break
my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the
day on which his death is fitly avenged."

The child fell upon her knees. The oath
was spoken, the old man was satisfied.

He called for his valet, and allowed himself
quietly to be put to bed.

38 I WILL REPAY

One brief hour had transformed a child into
a woman. A dangerous transformation when
the brain is overburdened with emotions, when
the nerves are overstrung and the heart full to
breaking.

For the moment, however, the childlike
nature reasserted itself for the last time, for
Juliette, sobbing, had fled out of the room, to
the privacy of her own apartment, and thrown
herself passionately into the arms of kind old
P6tronelle.

CHAPTER I

PARIS : 1 793

THE OUTRAGE

It would have been very difficult to say why
Citizen D6roul^de was quite so popular as he
was. Still more difficult would it have been to
state the reason why he remained immune from
the prosecutions, which were being conducted at
the rate of several scores a day, now against
the moderate Gironde, anon against the fanatic
Mountain, until the whole of France was trans-
formed into one gigantic prison, that daily fed
the guillotine.

But D6rouldde remained unscathed. Even
Merlin's law of the suspect had so far failed to
touch him. And when, last July, the murder of
Marat brought an entire holocaust of victims
to the guillotine — from Adam Lux, who would
have put up a statue in honour of Charlotte
Corday, with the inscription : " Greater than
Brutus," to Chalier, who would have had her
publicly tortured and burned at the stake for
her crime — D6roul6de alone said nothing, and
was allowed to remain silent.
39

40 I WILL REPAY

The most seething time of that seething re-
volution. No one knew in the morning if his
head would still be on his own shoulders in the
evening, or if it would be held up by Citizen
Samson the headsman, for the sansculottes of
Paris to see.

Yet D6roul6de was allowed to go his own
way. Marat once said of him : ** U n'est pas
dangereux." The phrase had been taken up.
Within the precincts of the National Convention,
Marat was still looked upon as the great pro-
tagonist of Liberty, a martyr to his own con-
victions carried to the extreme, to squalor and
dirt, to the downward levelling of man to what
is the lowest type in humanity. And his say-
ings were still treasured up : even the Girondins
did not dare to attack his memory. Dead
Marat was more powerful than his living pre-
sentment had been.

And he had said that D6roul^de was not
dangerous. Not dangerous to Republicanism,
to liberty, to that downward, levelling process,
the tearing down of old traditions, and the
annihilation of past pretensions.

D6roul6de had once been very rich. He had
had sufficient prudence to give away in good
time that which, undoubtedly, would have been
taken away from him later on.

But when he gave he gave willingly, at a
ime when France needed it most, and before

THE OUTRAGE 41

she had learned how to help herself to what she
wanted.

And somehow, in this instance, France had
not forgotten : an invisible fortress seemed
to surround Citizen D6roul6de and keep his
enemies at bay. They were few, but they
existed. The National Convention trusted him.
** He was not dangerous " to them. The people
looked upon him as one of themselves, who gave
whilst he had something to give. Who can
gauge that most elusive of all things : Popu-
larity}

He lived a quiet life, and had never yielded
to the omni-prevalent temptation of writing
pamphlets, but lived alone with his mother and
Anne Mie, the little orphaned cousin whom old
Madame D6roul6de had taken care of, ever
since the child could toddle.

Everyone knew his house in the Rue Ecole
de M6decine, not far from the one wherein
Marat lived and died, the only solid, stone house
in the midst of a row of hovels, evil-smelling
and squalid.

The street was narrow then, as it is now, and
whilst Paris was cutting off the heads of her
children for the sake of Liberty and Fraternity,
she had no time to bother about cleanliness and
sanitation.

Rue Ecole de M6decine did little credit to
the school after which it was named, and it

42 I WILL REPAY

was a most unattractive crowd that usually
thronged its uneven, muddy pavements.

A neat gown, a clean kerchief, were quite
an unusual sight down this way, for Anne Mie
seldom went out, and old Madame D6roulMe
hardly ever left her room. A good deal of
brandy was being drunk at the two drinking
bars, one at each end of the long, narrow
street, and by five o'clock in the afternoon it
was undoubtedly best for women to remain
indoors.

The crowd of dishevelled elderly Amazons
who stood gossiping at the street corner could
hardly be called women now. A ragged petti-
coat, a greasy red kerchief round the head, a
tattered, stained shift — to this pass of squalor
and shame had Liberty brought the daughters
of France.

And they jeered at any passer-by less filthy,
less degraded than themselves.

*'Ah! voyons laristo!" they shouted every
time a man in decent clothes, a woman with tidy
cap and apron, passed swiftly down the street.

And the afternoons were very lively. There
was always plenty to see : first and foremost,
the long procession of tumbrils, winding its
way from the prisons to the Place de la Revolu-
tion. The forty-four thousand sections of the
Committee of Public Safety sent their quota,
each in their turn, to the guillotine.

THE OUTRAGE 43

At one time these tumbrils contained royal
ladies and gentlemen, ci-devant dukes and
princesses, aristocrats from every county in
France, but now this stock was becoming ex-
hausted. The wretched Queen Marie Antoin-
ette still lingered in the Temple with her son
and daughter. Madame Elisabeth was still
allowed to say her prayers in peace, but ci-
devant dukes and counts were getting scarce :
those who had not perished at the hand of
Citizen Samson were plying some trade in
Germany or England.

There were aristocratic joiners, innkeepers,
and hairdressers. The proudest names in France
were hidden beneath trade signs in London
and Hamburg. A good number owed their
lives to that mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, that
unknown Englishman who had snatched scores
of victims from the clutches of Tinville the
Prosecutor, and sent M. Chauvelin, baffled,
back to France.

Aristocrats were getting scarce, so it was
now the turn of deputies of the National Con-
vention, of men of letters, men of science or
of art, men who had sent others to the guillo-
tine a twelvemonth ago, and men who had
been loudest in defence of anarchy and its
Reign of Terror.

They had revolutionised the Calendar : the
Citizen - Deputies, and every good citizen of

44 I WILL REPAY

France, called this 19th day of August 1793
the 2nd Fructidor of the year L of the New
Era.

At six o'clock on that afternoon a young
girl suddenly turned the angle of the Rue
Ecole de M6decine, and after looking quickly
to the right and left she began deliberately
walking along the narrow street

It was crowded just then. Groups of excited
women stood jabbering before every doorway,
It was the home-coming hour after the usual
spectacle on the Place de la Revolution. The
men had paused at the various drinking booths,
crowding the women out. It would be the
turn of these Amazons next, at the brandy
bars ; for the moment they were left to gossip,
and to jeer at the passer-by.

At first the young girl did not seem to heed
them. She walked quickly along, looking de-
fiantly before her, carrying her head erect,
and stepping carefully from cobblestone to
cobblestone, avoiding the mud, which would
have dirtied her dainty shoes.

The harridans passed the time of day to
her, and the time of day meant some obscene
remark unfit for women's ears. The young
girl wore a simple grey dress, with fine lawn
kerchief neatly folded across her bosom, a large
hat with flowing ribbons sat above the fairest
face that ever gladdened men's eyes to see.

THE OUTRAGE 45

Fairer still it would have been, but for the look
of determination which made it seem hard and
old for the girl's years.

She wore the tricolour scarf round her waist,
else she had been more seriously molested ere
now. But the Republican colours were her
safeguard : whilst she walked quietly along, no
one could harm her.

Then suddenly a curious impulse seemed to
seize her. It was just outside the large stone
house belonging to Citizen- Deputy D6roulMe.
She had so far taken no notice of the groups
of women which she had come across. When
they obstructed the footway, she had calmly
stepped out into the middle of the road.

It was wise and prudent, for she could close
her ears to obscene language and need pay no
heed to insult

Suddenly she threw up her head defiantly.

"Will you please let me pass.^" she said
loudly, as a dishevelled Amazon stood before
her with arms akimbo, glancing sarcastically
at the lace petticoat, which just peeped beneath
the young girl's simple grey frock.

**Let her pass.^^ Let her pass.^ Ho! ho!
ho!" laughed the old woman, turning to the
nearest group of idlers, and apostrophising
them with a loud oath. **Did you know,
citizeness, that this street had been specially
made for aristos to pass along?"

46 1 WILL REPAY

** I am in a hurry, will you let me pass at
once?" commanded the young girl, tapping
her foot impatiently on the ground.

There was the whole width of the street on
her right, plenty of room for her to walk along.
It seemed positive madness to provoke a
quarrel singlehanded against this noisy group
of excited females, just home from the ghastly
spectacle around the guillotine.

And yet she seemed to do it wilfully, as if
coming to the end of her patience, all her
proud, aristocratic blood in revolt against this
evil-smelling crowd which surrounded her.

Half-tipsy men and noisome, naked urchins
seemed to have sprung from everywhere.

" Oho, quelle aristo ! " they shouted with
ironical astonishment, gazing at the young
girl's face, fingering her gown, thrusting be-
grimed, hate-distorted faces close to her own.

Instinctively she recoiled and backed towards
the house immediately on her left. It was
adorned with a porch made of stout oak beams,
with a tiled roof; an iron lantern descended
from this, and there was a stone parapet below,
and a few steps, at right angles from the pave-
ment, led up to the massive door.

On these steps the young girl had taken
refuge. Proud, defiant, she confronted the
howling mob, which she had so wilfully
provoked.

THE OUTRAGE 47

"Of a truth, Citizeness Margot, that grey
dress would become you well!" suggested a
young man, whose red cap hung in tatters
over an evil and dissolute-looking face.

"And all that fine lace would make a
splendid jabot round the aristo's neck when
Citizen Samson holds up her head for us to
see," added another, as with mock elegance
he stooped and with two very grimy fingers
slightly raised the young girl's grey frock, dis-
playing the lace-edged petticoat beneath.

A volley of oaths and loud, ironical laughter
greeted this sally.

**'Tis mighty fine lace to be thus hidden
away," commented an elderly harridan. " Now,
would you believe it, my fine madam, but my
legs are bare underneath my kirtle ? "

*'And dirty, too. Til lay a wager," laughed
another. " Soap is dear in Paris just now."

"The lace on the aristo's kerchief would
pay the baker's bill of a whole family for a
month!" shouted an excited voice.

Heat and brandy further addled the brains
of this group of French citizens ; hatred gleamed
out of every eye. Outrage was imminent. The
young girl seemed to know it, but she remained
defiant and self-possessed, gradually stepping
back and back up the steps, closely followed
by her assailants.

" To the Jew with the gewgaw, then ! "

I

48 I WILL REPAY

shouted a thin, haggard female viciously, as
she suddenly clutched at the young girls ker-
chief, and with a mocking, triumphant laugh
tore it from her bosom.

This outrage seemed to be the signal for
the breaking down of the final barriers which
ordinary decency should have raised. The
language and vituperation became such as no
chronicler could record.

The girl's dainty white neck, her clear skin,
the refined contour of shoulders and bust, seemed
to have aroused the deadliest lust of hate in
these wretched creatures, rendered bestial by
famine and squalor.

It seemed almost as if one would vie with the
other in seeking for words which would most
offend these small aristocratic ears.

The young girl was now crouching against
the doorway, her hands held up to her ears to
shut out the awful sounds. She did not seem
frightened, only appalled at the terrible volcano
which she had provoked.

Suddenly a miserable harridan struck her
straight in the face, with hard, grimy fist, and a
long shout of exultation greeted this monstrous
deed.

Then only did the girl seem to lose her self-
control.

** A moi," she shouted loudly, whilst hammer-
ing with both hands against the massive door-

THE OUTRAGE 49

way. " A moi ! Murder ! Murder ! Citoyen
D^rouldde, k moi ! "

But her terror was greeted with renewed glee
by her assailants. They were now roused to
the highest point of frenzy : the crowd of brutes
would in the next moment have torn the help-
less girl from her place of refuge and dragged
her into the mire, an outraged prey, for the
satisfaction of an ungovernable hate.

But just as half-a-dozen pairs of talon-like
hands clutched frantically at her skirts, the
door behind her was quickly opened. She
felt her arm seized firmly, and herself dragged
swiftly within the shelter of the threshold.

Her senses, overwrought by the terrible ad-
venture which she had just gone through, were
threatening to reel; she heard the massive
door close, shutting out the yells of bafHed
rage, the ironical laughter, the obscene words,
which sounded in her ears like the shrieks of
Dante's damned.

She could not see her rescuer, for the hall
into which he had hastily dragged her was only
dimly lighted. But a peremptory voice said
quickly :

*' Up the stairs, the room straight in front of
you, my mother is there. Go quickly."

She had fallen on her knees, cowering against
the heavy oak beam which supported the ceil-
ing, and was straining her eyes to catch sight of

so I WILL REPAY

the man, to whom at this moment she perhaps
owed more than her life : but he was standing
against the doorway, with his hand on the
latch.

"What are you going to do? " she murmured.

" Prevent their breaking into my house in
order to drag you out of it," he replied quietly ;
**so, I pray you, do as I bid you."

Mechanically she obeyed him, drew herself
to her feet, and, turning towards the stairs,
began slowly to mount the shallow steps. Her
knees were shaking under her, her whole body
was trembling with horror at the awesome
crisis she had just traversed.

She dared not look back at her rescuer.
Her head was bent, and her lips were murmur-
ing half-audible words as she went.

Outside the hooting and yelling was becom-
ing louder and louder. Enraged fists were
hammering violently against the stout oak door.

At the top of the stairs, moved by an irre-
sistible impulse, she turned and looked into the
hall.

She saw his figure dimly outlined in the
gloom, one hand on the latch, his head thrown
back to watch her movements.

A door stood ajar immediately in front of
her. She pushed it open and went within.

At that moment he too opened the door
below. The shrieks of the howling mob once

THE OUTRAGE 51

more resounded close to her ears. It seemed
as if they had surrounded him. She wondered
what was happening, and marvelled how he
dared to face that awful crowd alone.

The room into which she had entered was
gay and cheerful-looking with its dainty chintz
hangings and graceful, elegant pieces of furni-
ture. The young girl looked up, as a kindly
voice said to her, from out the depths of a
capacious armchair:

** Come in, come in, my dear, and close the
door behind you ! Did those wretches attack
you ? Never mind. Paul will speak to them.
Come here, my dear, and sit down ; there's no
cause now for fear."

Without a word the young girl came forward.
She seemed now to be walking in a dream, the
chintz hangings to be swaying ghostlike around
her, the yells and shrieks below to come from
the very bowels of the earth.

The old lady continued to prattle on. She
had taken the girl's hand in hers, and was
gently forcing her down on to a low stool be-
side her armchair. She was talking about Paul,
and said something about Anne Mie, and then
about the National Convention, and those
beasts and savages, but mostly about Paul.

The noise outside had subsided. The girl
felt strangely sick and tired. Her head seemed
to be whirling round, the furniture to be danc-

52 I WILL REPAY

ing round her ; the old lady's face looked at her

through a swaying veil, and then — and then

Tired Nature was having her way at last ;
she folded the quivering young body in her
motherly arms, and wrapped the aching senses
beneath her merciful mantle of unconsciousness.

CHAPTER II

CITIZEN-DEPUTY

When, presently, the young girl awoke, with a
delicious feeling of rest and well-being, she
had plenty of leisure to think.

So, then, this was his house ! She was actu-
ally a guest, a rescued prot6g6, beneath the
roof of Citoyen D6roul^de.

He had dragged her from the clutches of
the howling mob which she had provoked ; his
mother had made her welcome, a sweet-faced,
young girl scarce out of her teens, sad-eyed
and slightly deformed, had waited upon her
and made her happy and comfortable.

Juliette de Marny was in the house of the man,
whom she had sworn before her God and before
her father to pursue with hatred and revenge.

Ten years had gone by since then.

Lying upon the sweet-scented bed which the
hospitality of the D6roul6des had provided for
her, she seemed to see passing before her the
spectres of these past ten years — the first four,
after her brother's death, until the old Due de
Marny's body slowly followed his soul to its
grave.
53

54 I WILL REPAY

After that last glimmer of life beside the
deathbed of his son, the old Due had practi-
cally ceased to be. A mute, shrunken figure,
he merely existed; his mind vanished, his
memory gone, a wreck whom Nature fortun-
ately remembered at last, and finally took away
from the invalid chair which had been his
world.

Then came those few years at the Convent
of the Ursulines. Juliette had hoped that she
had a vocation ; her whole soul yearned for
a secluded, a religious, life, for great barriers
of solemn vows and days spent in prayer and
contemplation, to interpose between herself
and the memory of that awful night when,
obedient to her father's will, she had made the
solemn oath to avenge her brother's death.

She was only eighteen when she first entered
the convent, directly after her father's death,
when she felt very lonely — both morally and
mentally lonely — ^and followed by the obsession
of that oath.

She never spoke of it to anyone except to
her confessor, and he, a simple-minded man of
great learning and a total lack of knowledge
of the world, was completely at a loss how to
advise.

The Archbishop was consulted. He could
grant a dispensation, and release her of that
most solemn vow.

CITIZEN-DEPUTY S5

When first this idea was suggested to her,
Juliette was exultant. Her entire nature, which
in itself was wholesome, light-hearted, the very
reverse of morbid, rebelled against this un-
natural task placed upon her young shoulders.
It was only religion — the strange, warped re-
ligion of that extraordinary age — which kept
her to it, which forbade her breaking lightly
that most unnatural oath.

The Archbishop was a man of many duties,
many engagements. He agreed to give this
strange " cas de conscience " his most earnest
attention. He would make no promises. But
Mademoiselle de Marny was rich : a muni-
ficent donation to the poor of Paris, or to some
cause dear to the Holy Father himself, might
perhaps be more acceptable to God than the
fulfilment of a compulsory vow.

Juliette, within the convent walls, was wait-
ing patiently for the Archbishop's decision at
the very moment, when the greatest upheaval
the world has ever known was beginning to
shake the very foundations of France.

The Archbishop had other things now to
think about than isolated cases of conscience.
He forgot all about Juliette, probably. He
was busy consoling a monarch for the loss of
his throne, and preparing himself and his royal
patron for the scaffold.

The Convent of the Ursulines was scattered

56 I WILL REPAY

during the Terror. Everyone remembers the
Thermidor massacres, and the thirty-four nuns,
all daughters of ancient families of France, who
went so cheerfully to the scaffold.

Juliette was one of those who escaped con-
demnation. How or why, she herself could
not have told. She was very young, and still
a postulant ; she was allowed to live in retire-
ment with P6tronelle, her old nurse, who had
remained faithful through all these years.

Then the Archbishop was prosecuted and
imprisoned. Juliette made frantic efforts to
see him, but all in vain. When he died, she
looked upon her spiritual guide's death as a
direct warning from God, that nothing could
relieve her of her oath.

She had watched the turmoils of the Re-
volution through the attic window of her tiny
apartment in Paris. Waited upon by faithful
P6tronelle, she had been forced to live on the
savings of that worthy old soul, as all her
property, all the Marny estates, the doi she
took with her to the convent — everything, in
fact — had been seized by the Revolutionary
Government, self appointed to level fortunes,
as well as individuals.

From that attic window she had seen beauti-
ful Paris writhing under the pitiless lash of the
demon of terror which it had provoked ; she had
heard the rumble of the tumbrils, dragging

aTEEN-DEPUTY 57

day after day their load of victims to the in-
satiable maker of this Revolution of Fraternity
— the Guillotine.

She had seen the gay, light-hearted people
of this Star-City turned to howling beasts of
prey, its women changed to sexless vultures,
with murderous talons implanted in everything
that is noble, high or beautiful.

She was not twenty when the feeble, vacil-
lating monarch and his imperious consort were
dragged back — a pair of humiliated prisoners —
to the capital from which they had tried to flee.

Two years later, she had heard the cries
of an entire people exulting over a regicide.
Then the murder of Marat, by a young girl
like herself, the pale-faced, large-eyed Char-
lotte, who had committed a crime for the sake
of a conviction. " Greater than Brutus ! " some
had called her. Greater than Joan of Arc,
for it was to a mission of evil and of sin
that she was called from the depths of her
Breton village, and not to one of glory and
triumph.

•' Greater than Brutus ! "

Juliette followed the trial of Charlotte Cor-
day with all the passionate ardour of her exalted
temperament.

Just think what an effect it must have had
upon the mind of this young girl, who for
nine years — the best of her life — had also lived

58 I WILL REPAY

with the idea of a sublime mission pervading
her very soul.

She watched Charlotte Corday at her trial.
Conquering her natural repulsion for such
scenes, and the crowds which usually watched
them, she had forced her way into the foremost
rank of the narrow gallery which overlooked
the Hall of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

She heard the indictment, heard Tinville's
speech and the calling of the witnesses.

" All this is unnecessary. I killed Marat ! "
Juliette heard the fresh young voice ringing
out clearly above the murmur of voices, the
howls of execration ; she saw the beautiful
young face, clear, calm, impassive.

''I killed Marat!"

And there in the special space allotted to
the Citizen- Deputies, sitting among those who
represented the party of the Moderate Gironde,
was Paul D^roul^de, the man whom she had
sworn to pursue with a vengeance as great,
as complete, as that which guided Charlotte
Corday s hand.

She watched him during the trial, and won-
dered if he had any presentiment of the hatred
which dogged him, like unto the one which
had dogged Marat.

He was very dark, almost swarthy, a son of
the South, with brown hair, free from powder,
thrown back and revealing the brow of a

OnZEN-DEPUTY 59

student rather than that of a legislator. He
watched Charlotte Corday earnestly, and
Juliette who watched him saw the look of
measureless pity, which softened the otherwise
hard look of his close-set eyes.

He made an impassioned speech for the
defence : a speech which has become historic.
It would have cost any other man his head.

Juliette marvelled at his courage ; to defend
Charlotte Corday was equivalent to acquies-
cing in the death of Marat : Marat, the friend
of the people ; Marat, whom his funeral orators
had compared to the Great, the Sacred Leveller
of Mankind !

But D6roul6de's speech was not a defence,
it was an appeal. The most eloquent man of
that eloquent age, his words seemed to find that
hidden bit of sentiment which still lurked in the
hearts of these strange protagonists of Hate.

Everyone round Juliette listened as he
spoke : " It is Citoyen D6rouldde ! " whispered
the bloodthirsty Amazons, who sat knitting in
the gallery.

But there was no further comment. A
huge, magnificently-equipped hospital for sick
children had been thrown open in Paris that
very morning, a gift to the nation from Citoyen
Ddrouldde. Surely he was privileged to talk
a little, if it pleased him. His hospital would
cover quite a good many defalcations.

I

60 I WILL REPAY

Even the rabid Mountain, Danton, Merlin,
Santerre, shrugged their shoulders. "It is
D6roul6de, let him talk an he list. Murdered
Marat said of him that he was not dangerous."

Juliette heard it all. The knitters round
her were talking loudly. Even Charlotte was
almost forgotten whilst D6roul6de talked. He
had a fine voice, of strong calibre, which
echoed powerfully through he hall.

He was rather short, but broad-shouldered
and well knit, with an expressive hand, which
looked slender and delicate below the fine lace
ruffle.

Charlotte Corday was condemned. All D6-
roulMe's eloquence could not save her.

Juliette left the court in a state of mad
exultation. She was very young : the scenes
she had witnessed in the past two years could
not help but excite the imagination of a young
girl, left entirely to her own intellectual and
moral resources.

What scenes ! Great God !

And now to wait for an opportunity!
Charlotte Corday, the half-educated little pro-
vincial should not put to shame Mademoiselle
de Marny, the daughter of a hundred dukes,
of those who had made France before she
took to unmaking herself.

But she could not formulate any definite
plans. P6tronelle, poor old soul, her only

CmZEN-DEPUTY 6i

confidante, was not of the stuff that heroines
are made of. Juliette felt impelled by duty,
and duty at best is not so prompt a counsellor
as love or hate.

Her adventure outside D6roul6de's house
had not been premeditated. Impulse and co-
incidence had worked their will with her.

She had been in the habit, daily, for the
past month, of wandering down the Rue Ecole
de M6decine, ostensibly to gaze at Marat's
dwelling, as crowds of idlers were wont to
do, but really in order to look at D6rouldde's
house. Once or twice she saw him coming or
going from home. Once she caught sight of
the inner hall, and of a young girl in a dark
kirtle and snow-white kerchief bidding him
good-bye at his door. Another time she
caught sight of him at the corner of the street,
helping that same young girl over the muddy
pavement. He had just met her, and she was
carrying a basket of provisions : he took it
from her and carried it to the house.

Chivalrous — ehi^ — and innately so, evidently,
for the girl was slightly deformed : hardly a
hunchback, but weak and unattractive-looking,
with melancholy eyes, and a pale, pinched face.

It was the thought of that little act of
simple chivalry, witnessed the day before,
which caused Juliette to provoke the scene
which, but for D6roul6de's timely interfer-

62 I WILL REPAY

ence, might have ended so fatally. But she
reckoned on that interference : the whole
thing had occurred to her suddenly, and she
had carried it through.

Had not her father said to her that when
the time came, God would show her a means
to the end ?

And now she was inside the house of the
man who had murdered her brother and sent
her sorrowing father, a poor, senseless maniac,
tottering to the grave.

Would God's finger point again, and show
her what to do next, how best to accomplish
what she had sworn to do ?

CHAPTER III

HOSPITALITY

** Is there anything more I can do for you now,
mademoiselle ? "

The gentle, timid voice roused Juliette from
the contemplation of the past

She smiled at Anne Mie, and held her hand
out towards her.

**You have all been so kind," she said,
" I want to get up now and thank you all."

** Don't move unless you feel quite well."

" I am quite well now. Those horrid people
frightened me so, that is why I fainted."

*' They would have half-killed you, if "

*' Will you tell me where I am ."^ " asked
Juliette. f

**In the house of M. Paul D^roulMe —
I should have said of Citizen - Deputy
D^roulMe. He rescued you from the mob,
and pacified them. He has such a beautiful
voice that he can make anyone listen to him,
and "

** And you are fond of him, mademoiselle ? "
added Juliette, suddenly feeling a mist of tears
rising to her eyes.
6j

64 I WILL REPAY

"Of course I am fond of him," rejoined the
other girl simply, whilst a look of the most
tender-hearted devotion seemed to beautify her
pale face. "He and Madame D6rouldde have
brought me up ; I never knew my parents.
They have cared for me, and he has taught me
all I know."

"What do they call you, mademoiselle.'^"

" My name is Anne Mie."

"And mine, Juliette — Juliette Marny," she
added after a slight hesitation. " I have no
parents either. My old nurse, P6tronelle, has

brought me up, and But tell me more

about M. D6roul6de — I owe him so much,
rd like to know him better."

"Will you not let me arrange your hair.^"
said Anne Mie as if purposely evading a direct
reply. "M. D6rouldde is in the salon with
madame. You can see him then."

Juliette asked no more questions, but allowed
Anne Mie to tidy her hair for her, to lend her a
fresh kerchief and generally to efface all traces
of her terrible adventure. She felt puzzled and
tearful. Anne Mie s gentleness seemed some-
how to jar on her spirits. She could not
understand the girl's position in the D^roul^de
household. Was she a relative, or a superior
servant.^ In these troublous times she might
easily have been both.

In any case she was a childhood's companion

HOSPITALITY 65

of the Citizen- Deputy — whether on an equal
or a humbler footing, Juliette would have given
much to ascertain.

With the marvellous instinct peculiar to
women of temperament, she had already
divined Anne Mie's love for D^roulede. The
poor young cripple's very soul seemed to quiver
magnetically at the bare mention of his name,
her whole face became transfigured: Juliette
even thought her beautiful then.

She looked at herself critically in the glass,
and adjusted a curl, which looked its best when
it was rebellious. She scrutinised her own
face carefully ; why ? she could not tell : another
of those subtle feminine instincts perhaps.

The becoming simplicity of the prevailing
mode suited her to perfection. The waist line,
rather high but clearly defined — a precursor of
the later more accentuated fashion — gave grace
to her long slender limbs, and emphasised
the lissomeness of her figure. The kerchief,
edged with fine lace, and neatly folded across
her bosom, softened the contour of her girlish
bust and shoulders.

And her hair was a veritable glory round her
dainty, piquant face. Soft, fair, and curly, it
emerged in a golden halo from beneath the
prettiest little lace cap imaginable.

She turned and faced Anne Mie, ready to
follow her out of the room, and the young

E

66 I WILL REPAY

crippled girl sighed as she smoothed down the
folds of her own apron, and gave a final touch
to the completion of Juliette's attire.

The time before the evening meal slipped by
like a dream-hour for Juliette.

She had lived so much alone, had led such
an introspective life, that she had hardly
realised and understood all that was going
on around her. At the time when the inner
vitality of France first asserted itself and then
swept away all that hindered its mad progress,
she was tied to the invalid chair of her half-
demented father; then, after that, the sheltering
walls of the Ursuline Convent had hidden from
her mental vision the true meaning of the
great conflict, between the Old Era and the
New.

D^roulMe was neither a pedant nor yet a
revolutionary : his theories were Utopian and
he had an extraordinary overpowering sym-
pathy for his fellow-men.

After the first casual greetings with Juliette,
he had continued a discussion with his mother,
which the young girl's entrance had inter-
rupted.

He seemed to take but little notice of her,
although at times his dark, keen eyes would
seek hers, as if challenging her for a reply.

He was talking of the mob of Paris, whom
evidently understood so well. Incidents

HOSPITALITY 67

such as the one which Juliette had provoked,
had led to rape and theft, often to murder,
before now : but outside Citizen- Deputy D6-
roul^de's house everything was quiet, half-an-
hour after Juliette's escape from that howling,
brutish crowd.

He had merely spoken to them, for about
twenty minutes, and they had gone away quite
quietly, without even touching one hair of
his head. He seemed to love them : to know
how to separate the little good that was in
them, from that hard crust of evil, which
misery had put around their hearts.

Once he addressed Juliette somewhat ab-
ruptly: "Pardon me, mademoiselle, but for
your own sake we must guard you a prisoner
here awhile. No one would harm you under
this roof, but it would not be safe for you to
cross the neighbouring streets to-night."

"But I must go, monsieur. Indeed, in-
deed I must ! " she said earnestly. " I am deeply
grateful to you, but I could not leave P6tronelle.'

"WhoisP6tronelle.^"

"My dear old nurse, monsieur. She has
never left me. Think how anxious and
miserable she must be, at my prolonged
absence."

" Where does she live ? "

"At No. 15 Rue Taitbout, but "

"Will you allow me to take her a message?

)

68 I WILL REPAY

— telling her that you are safe and under my
roof, where it is obviously more prudent that
you should remain at present"

''If you think it best, monsieur," she replied.

Inwardly she was trembling with excite-
ment. God had not only brought her to this
house, but willed that she should stay in it.

"In whose name shall I take the message,
mademoiselle ? " he asked.

" My name is Juliette Marny."

She watched him keenly as she said it,
but there was not the slightest sign in his
expressive face, to show that he had recog-
nised the name.

Ten years is a long time, and every one
had lived through so much during those
years! A wave of intense wrath swept
through Juliette's soul, as she realised that he
had forgotten. The name meant nothing to
him! It did not recall to him the fact that
his hand was stained with blood. During ten
years she had suffered, she had fought with
herself, fought for him as it were, against the
Fate which she was destined to mete out to
him, whilst he had forgotten, or at least had
ceased to think.

He bowed to her and went out of the room.

The wave of wrath subsided, and she was
left alone with Madame D6roul6de : presently
Anne Mie came in.

HOSPITALITY 69

The three women chatted together, waiting
for the return of the master of the house.
Juliette felt well and, in spite of herself, almost
happy. She had lived so long in the miser-
able, little attic alone with P6tronelle that she
enjoyed the well-being of this refined home.
It was not so grand or gorgeous of course
as her father's princely palace opposite the
Louvre, a wreck now, since it was annexed
by the Committee of National Defence, for
the housing of soldiery. But the D6roulddes*
home was essentially a refined one. The
delicate china on the tall chimney-piece, the
few bits of Buhl and Vernis Martin about
the room, the vision through the open door-
way of the supper-table spread with a fine
white cloth, and sparkling with silver, all
spoke of fastidious tastes, of habits of luxury
and elegance, which the spirit of Equality and
Anarchy had not succeeded in eradicating.

When D6roulMe came back, he brought an
atmosphere of breezy cheerfulness with him.

The street was quiet now, and when walking
past the hospital — his own gift to the Nation
— ^he had been loudly cheered. One or two
ironical voices had asked him what he had
done with the aristo and her lace furbelows,
but it remained at that and Mademoiselle
Marny need have no fear.

He had brought P6tronelle along with him :

70 I WILL REPAY

his careless, lavish hospitality would have
suggested the housing of Juliette's entire
domestic establishment, had she possessed
one.

As it was, the worthy old soul's deluge of
happy tears had melted his kindly heart. He
offered her and her young mistress shelter,
until the small cloud should have rolled by.

After that he suggested a journey to
England. Emigration now was the only real
safety, and Mademoiselle Marny had un-
pleasantly drawn on herself the attention of
the Paris rabble. No doubt, within the next
few days her name would figure among the
"suspect" She would be safest out of the
country, and could not do better than place
herself under the guidance of that English
enthusiast, who had helped so many persecuted
Frenchmen to escape from the terrors of the
Revolution : the man who was such a thorn
in the flesh of the Committee of Public Safety,
and who went by the nickname of The
Scarlet Pimpernel.

CHAPTER IV

THE FAITHFUL HOUSE-DOG

After supper they talked of Charlotte Cor-
day.

Juliette clung to the vision of that heroine,
and liked to talk of her. She appeared as a
justification of her own actions, which somehow
seemed to require justification.

She loved to hear Paul D6roulMe talk;
liked to provoke his enthusiasm and to see his
stem, dark face light up with the inward fire of
the enthusiast.

She had openly avowed herself as the
daughter of the Due de Marny. When she
actually named her father, and her brother
killed in duel, she saw D6roulede looking long
and searchingly at her. Evidently he won-
dered if she knew everything : but she returned
his gaze fearlessly and frankly, and he apparently
was satisfied.

Madame D6roul6de seemed to know nothing
of the circumstances of that duel. D6rou-
IMe tried to draw Juliette out, to make her
speak of her brother. She replied to his ques-
tions quite openly, but there was nothing in
71

7% I WILL REPAY

what she said, suggestive of the fact that she
knew who killed her brother.

She wanted him to know who she was.
If he feared an enemy in her, there was yet
time enough for him to close his doors
against her.

But less than a minute later, he had renewed
his warmest offers of hospitality.

" Until we can arrange for your journey to
England," he added with a short sigh, as if
reluctant to part from her.

To Juliette his attitude seemed one of
complete indifference for the wrong he had
done to her and to her father : feeling that she
was an avenging spirit, with flaming sword in
hand, pursuing her brother's murderer like a
relentless Nemesis, she would have preferred to
see him cowed before her, even afraid of her,
though she was only a young and delicate girl.

She did not understand that in the simplicity
of his heart, he only wished to make amends.
The quarrel with the young Vicomte de Marny
had been forced upon him, the fight had been
honourable and fair, and on his side fought with
every desire to spare the young man. He had
merely been the instrument of Fate, but he felt
happy that Fate once more used him as her
tool, this time to save the sister.

Whilst D6roulede and Juliette talked to-
gether Anne Mie cleared the supper-table, then

THE FAITHFUL HOUSE-DOG 73

came and sat on a low stool at madame's
feet. She took no part in the conversation,
but every now and then Juliette felt the girl's
melancholy eyes fixed almost reproachfully
upon her.

When Juliette had retired with P6tronelle,
D6roul6de took Anne Mie's hand in his.

'• You will be kind to my guest, Anne Mie,
won't you? She seems very lonely, and has
gone through a great deal."

" Not more than I have," murmured the
young girl involuntarily.

"You are not happy, Anne Mie? I
thought "

** Is a wretched, deformed creature ever
happy ? " she said with sudden vehemence, as
tears of mortification rushed to her eyes, in
spite of herself.

" I did not think that you were wretched,"
he replied with some sadness, "and neither
in my eyes, nor in my mother's, are you in any
way deformed."

Her mood changed at once. She clung to
him, pressing his hand between her own.

"Forgive me! I — I don't know what's
the matter with me to-night," she said with a
nervous little laugh. " Let me see, you asked
me to be kind to Mademoiselle Marny, did
you not ? "

He nodded with a smile.

74 .-I WILL REPAY

"Of course I'll be kind to her. Isn't every
one kind to one who is young and beautiful,
and has great, appealing eyes, and soft, curly
hair? Ah me! how easy is the path in life
for some people! What do you want me to
do, Paul ? Wait on her ? Be her little maid ?
Soothe her nerves or what? I'll do it all,
though in her eyes I shall remain both
wretched and deformed, a creature to pity, the
harmless, necessary house-dog "

She paused a moment : said " Good-night "
to him, and turned to go, candle in hand, look-
ing pathetic and fragile, with that ugly contour
of shoulder, which D6roul6de assured her he
could not see.

The candle flickered in the draught, illumin-
ing the thin, pinched face, the large melancholy
eyes of the faithful house-dog.

"Who can watch and bite!" she said half-
audibly as she slipped out of the room. " For
I do not trust you, my fine madam, and there
was something about that comedy this after-
noon, which somehow, I don't quite understand."

CHAPTER V

A DAY IN THE WOODS

But whilst men and women set to work to
make the towns of France hideous with their
shrieks and their hootings, their mock-trials
and bloody guillotines, they could not quite
prevent Nature from working her sweet will
with the country.

June, July, and August had received new
names — they were now called Messidor,
Thermidor, and Fructidor, but under these
new names they continued to pour forth
upon the earth the same old fruits, the same
flowers, the same grass in the meadows and
leaves upon the trees.

Messidor brought its quota of wild roses
in the hedgerows, just as archaic June had
done. Thermidor covered the barren corn-
fields with its flaming mantle of scarlet poppies,
and Fructidor, though now called August, still
tipped the wild sorrel with dots of crimson,
and laid the first wash of tender colour on
the pale cheeks of the ripening peaches.

And Juliette — young, girlish, feminine and
inconsequent — had sighed for country and
75

^^

76 ♦« WILL REPAY

sunshine, had longed for a ramble in the
woods, the music of the birds, the sight of
the meadows sugared with marguerites.

She had left the house early : accompanied
by P6tronelle, she had been rowed along the
river as far as Suresnes. They had brought
some bread and fresh butter, a little wine and
fruit in a basket, and from here she meant to
wander homewards through the woods.

It was all so peaceful, so remote : even the
noise of shrieking, howling Paris did not reach
the leafy thickets of Suresnes.

It almost seemed as if this little old-world
village had been forgotten by the destroyers
of France. It had never been a royal resi-
dence, the woods had never been preserved
for royal sport : there was no vengeance to be
wreaked upon its peaceful glades and sleepy,
fragrant meadows.

Juliette spent a happy day ; she loved the
flowers, the trees, the birds, and P6tronelle
was silent and sympathetic. As the afternoon
wore on, and it was time to go home, Juliette
turned townwards with a sigh.

You all know that road through the woods,
which lies to the north-west of Paris : so leafy,
so secluded. No large, hundred-year-old trees,
no fine oaks or antique elms, but numberless
delicate stems of hazel-nut and young ash,
covered with honeysuckle at this time of year,

A DAY IN THE WpODS 77

sweet-smelling and so peaceful after that awful
turmoil of the town.

Obedient to Madame D6roul6de's sugges-
tion, Juliette had tied a tricolour scarf round
her waist, and a Phrygian cap of crimson cloth,
with the inevitable rosette on one side, adorned
her curly head.

She had gathered a huge bouquet of poppies,
marguerites and blue lupin — Nature's tribute
to the national colours — and as she wandered
through the sylvan glades she looked like
some quaint dweller of the woods — a sprite,
mayhap — ^with old mother P6tronelle trotting
behind her, like an attendant witch.

Suddenly she paused, for in the near
distance she had perceived the sound of
footsteps upon the leafy turf, and the next
moment Paul D^roulMe emerged from out
the thicket and came rapidly towards her.

'* We were so anxious about you at home ! "
he said, almost by way of an apology. " My
mother became so restless "

" That to quiet her fears you came in search
of me ! " she retorted with a gay litde laugh,
the laugh of a young girl, scarce a woman as
yet, who feels that she is good to look at,
good to talk to, who feels her wings for the
first time, the wings with which to soar into
that mad, merry, elusive land called Romance.
Ay, her wings! but her power also! that

78 I WILL REPAY

sweet, subtle power of the woman : the yoke
which men love, rail at, and love again, the
yoke that enslaves them and gives them the
joy of kings.

How happy the day had been! Yet it had
been incomplete !

P6tronelle was somewhat dull, and Juliette
was too young to enjoy long companionship
with her own thoughts. Now suddenly the
day seemed to have become perfect. There
was someone there to appreciate the charm
of the woods, the beauty of that blue sky
peeping through the tangled foliage of the
honeysuckle-covered trees. There was some
one to talk to, someone to admire the fresh
white frock Juliette had put on that morning.

" But how did you know where to find me ? "
she asked with a quaint touch of immature
coquetry.

" I didn't know," he replied quietly. "They
told me you had gone to Suresnes, and meant
to wander homewards through the woods. It
frightened me, for you will have to go through
the north-west barrier, and "

"Well.>"

He smiled, and looked earnestly for a moment
at the dainty apparition before him.

"Well, you know!" he said gaily, "that
tricolour scarf and the red cap are not quite
sufficient as a disguise : you look anything

A DAY IN THE WOODS 79

but a staunch friend of the people. I guessed
that your muslin frock would be clean, and that
there would still be some tell-tale lace upon it"

She laughed again, and with delicate fingers
lifted her pretty muslin frock, displaying a white
frou-frou of flounces beneath the hem.

'' How careless and childish ! " he said, almost
roughly.

" Would you have me coarse and grimy to
be a fitting match for your partisans.^" she
retorted.

His tone of mentor nettled her, his attitude
seemed to her priggish and dictatorial, and as
the sun disappearing behind a sudden cloud,
so her childish merriment quickly gave place to
a feeling of unexplainable disappointment.

'* I humbly beg your pardon," he said quietly.
" And must crave your kind indulgence for my
mood : but I have been so anxious "

"Why should you be anxious about me?"

She had meant to say this indifferently, as if
caring little what the reply might be : but in
her effort to seem indifferent her voice became
haughty, a reminiscence of the days when she
still was the daughter of the Due de Marny,
the richest and most high-bom heiress in
France.

" Was that presumptuous ? " he asked, with a
slight touch of irony, in response to her own
hauteujt

8o I WILL REPAY

"It was merely unnecessary," she replied.
" I have already laid too many burdens on
your shoulders, without wishing to add that
of anxiety."

"You have laid no burden on me," he said
quietly, " save one of gratitude."

" Gratitude ? What have I done ? "

"You committed a foolish, thoughtless act
outside my door, and gave me the chance of
easing my conscience of a heavy load."

"In what way?"

" I had never hoped that the Fates would
be so kind as to allow me to render a member
of your family a slight service."

" I understand that you saved my life the
other day. Monsieur D6roul6de. I know that
I am still in peril and that I owe my safety to
you "

" Do you also know that your brother owed
his death to me ? "

She closed her lips firmly, unable to reply,
wrathful with him, for having suddenly and
without any warning, placed a clumsy hand
upon that hidden sore.

" I always meant to tell you," he continued
somewhat hurriedly ; "for it almost seemed to
me that I have been cheating you, these last
few days. I don't suppose that you can quite
realise what it means to me to tell you this
just now; but I owe it to you, I think. In

A DAY IN THE WOODS 8i

later years you might find out, and then
regret the days you spent under my roof.
I called you childish a moment ago, you must
forgive me; I know that you are a woman,
and hope therefore that you will understand
me. I killed your brother in fair fight. He
provoked me as no man was ever provoked
before "

" Is it necessary, M. Ddrouldde, that you
should tell me all this ? " she interrupted him
with some impatience.

" I thought you ought to know."

"You must know, on the other hand, that
I have no means of hearing the history of the
quarrel from my brother's point of view now."

The moment the words were out of her lips
she had realised how cruelly she had spoken.
He did not reply ; he was too chivalrous, too
gentle, to reproach her. Perhaps he under-
stood for the first time how bitterly she had
felt her brother's death, and how deeply she
must be suffering, now that she knew herself
to be face to face with his murderer.

She stole a quick glance at him, through
her tears. She was deeply penitent for what
she had said. It almost seemed to her as if
a dual nature was at war within hen

The mention of Iier brother's name, the
recollection of that awful night beside his
dead body, of those four years whilst she

\

82 I WILL REPAY

watched her father's moribund reason slowly
wandering towards the grave, seemed to rouse
in her a spirit of rebellion, and of evil, which
she felt was not entirely of herself

The woods had become quite silent. It
was late afternoon, and they had gradually wan-
dered farther and farther away from pretty
sylvan Suresnes, towards great, anarchic, death-
dealing Paris. In this part of the woods the
birds had left their homes ; the trees, shorn of
their lower branches looked like gaunt spectres,
raising melancholy heads towards the relentless,
silent sky.

In the distance, from behind the barriers, a
couple of miles away, the boom of a gun was
heard.

**They are closing the barriers," he said
quietly after a long pause. " I am glad I
was fortunate enough to meet you."

" It was kind of you to seek for me," she
said meekly. "I didn't mean what I said
just now "

" I pray you, say no more about it. I can
so well understand. I only wish "

"It would be best I should leave your
house," she said gently ; " I have so ill repaid
your hospitality. P6tronelle and I can easily
go back to our lodgings."

" You would break my mother's heart if you
left her now," he said, almost roughly. ** She

A DAY IN THE WOODS 83

has become very fond of you, and knows, just
as well as I do, the dangers that would beset
you outside my house. My coarse and grimy
partisans," he added, with a bitter touch of
sarcasm, "have that advantage, that they are
loyal to me, and would not harm you while
under my roof."

" But you " she murmured.

She felt somehow that she had wounded him
very deeply, and was half angry with herself
for her seeming ingratitude, and yet childishly
glad to have suppressed in him that attitude of
mentorship, which he was beginning to assume
over her.

**You need not fear that my presence will
offend you much longer, mademoiselle," he
said coldly. " I can quite understand how hate-
ful it must be to you, though I would have
wished that you could believe at least in my
sincerity."

" Are you going away then ? "

"Not out of Paris altogether. I have ac-
cepted the post of Governor of the Concier-
geiir

"Ah! — where the poor Queen "

She checked herself suddenly. Those words
would have been called treasonable to the
people of France.

Instinctively and furtively, as everyone did in
these days, she cast a rapid glance behind her.

84 I WILL REPAY

"You need not be afraid," he said; "there
is no one here but P6tronelle."

"And you."

" Oh ! I echo your words. Poor Marie An-
toinette ! "

"You pity her,>"

" How can I help it ? "

" But you are of that horrible National Con-
vention, who will try her, condemn her, execute
her as they did the King."

" I am of the National Convention. But I
will not condemn her, nor be a party to another
crime. I go as Governor of the Conciergerie,
to help her, if I can."

" But your popularity — your life — if you be-
friend her ? "

"As you say, mademoiselle, my life, if I
befriend her," he said simply.

She looked at him with renewed curiosity in
her gaze.

How strange were men in these days ! Paul
D6roulMe, the republican, the recognised idol
of the lawless people of France, was about to
risk his life for the woman he had helped to
dethrone.

Pity with him did not end with the rabble of
Paris ; it had reached Charlotte Corday, though it
failed to save her, and now it extended to the
poor dispossessed Queen. Somehow, in his
face this time, she saw either success or death.

A DAY IN THE WOODS 85

*' When do you leave ? " she asked.

" To-morrow night"

She said nothing more. Strangely enough,
a tinge of melancholy had settled over her
spirits. No doubt the proximity of the town
was the cause of this. She could already hear
the familiar noise of muffled drums, the loud,
excited shrieking of the mob, who stood round
the gates of Paris, at this time of the evening,
waiting to witness some important capture,
perhaps that of a hated aristocrat striving to
escape from the people's revenge.

They had reached the edge of the wood,
and gradually, as she walked, the flowers she
had gathered fell unheeded out of her listless
hands one by one.

First the blue lupins : their bud-laden heads
were heavy and they dropped to the ground,
followed by the white marguerites, that lay thick
behind her now on the grass like a shroud.
The red poppies were the lightest, their thin
gimimy stalks clung to her hands longer than
the rest. At last she let them fall too, singly,
like great drops of blood, that glistened as her
long white gown swept them aside.

D6roulMe was absorbed in his thoughts, and
seemed not to heed her. At the barrier, how-
ever, hfj roused himself and took out the passes
which alone enabled Juliette and P6tronelle to
re-«nter the town unchallenged. He himself

86 I WILL REPAY

as Citizen- Deputy could come and go as he
wished.

Juliette shuddered as the great gates closed
behind her with a heavy clank. It seemed to
shut out even the memory of this happy day,
which for a brief space had been quite perfect.

She did not know Paris very well, and
wondered where lay that gloomy Conciergerie,
where a dethroned queen was living her last
days, in an agonised memory of the past But
as they crossed the bridge she recognised all
round her the massive towers of the great city :
Notre Dame, the graceful spire of La Sainte
Chapelle, the sombre outline of St Gervais, and
behind her the Louvre with its great history
and irreclaimable grandeur. H o w small her own
tragedy seemed in the midst of this great san-
guinary drama, the last act of which had not yet
even begun. Her own revenge, her oath, her
tribulations, what were they in comparison with
that great flaming Nemesis which had swept
away a throne, that vow of retaliation carried
out by thousands against other thousands, that
long story of degradation, of regicide, of fratri-
cide, the awesome chapters of which were still
being unfolded one by one ?

She felt small and petty: ashamed of the
pleasure she had felt in the woods, ashamed of
her high spirits and light-heartedness, ashamed
of that feeling of sudden pity and admiration for

A DAY IN THE WOODS 87

the man who had done her and her family so
deep an injury, which she was too feeble, too
vacillating to avenge.

The majestic outline of the Louvre seemed
to frown sarcastically on her weakness, the silent
river to mock her and her wavering purpose.
The man beside her had wronged her and hers
far more deeply than the Bourbons had wronged
their people. The people of France were taking
their revenge, and God had at the close of this
last happy day of her life pointed once more to
the means for her great end.

CHAPTER VI

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL

It was some few hours later. The ladies sat
in the drawing-room, silent and anxious.

Soon after supper a visitor had called, and
had been closeted with Paul D6roul6de in the
latter's study for the past two hours.

A tall, somewhat lazy-looking figure, he was
sitting at a table face to face with the Citizen-
Deputy. On a chair beside him lay a heavy
caped coat, covered with the dust and the
splashings of a long journey, but he himself
was attired in clothes that suggested the most
fastidious taste, and the most perfect of tailors ;
he wore with apparent ease the eccentric
fashion of the time, the short- waisted coat of
many lapels, the double waistcoat and billows
of delicate lace. Unlike D6roul^de he was of
great height, with fair hair and a somewhat
lazy expression in his good-natured blue eyes,
and as he spoke, there was just a soup^on of
foreign accent in the pronunciation of the
French vowels, a certain drawl of o*s and a's,
that would have betrayed the Britisher to an
observant ear.

88

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL 89

The two men had been talking earnestly for
some time, the tall Englishman was watching
his friend keenly, whilst an amused, pleasant
smile lingered round the corners of his firm
mouth and jaw. D6roul^de, restless and en-
thusiastic, was pacing to and fro.

** But I don't understand now, how you
managed to reach Paris, my dear Blakeney ! "
said D6roulMe at last, placing an anxious hand
on his friend's shoulder. "The government
has not forgotten The Scarlet Pimpernel."

**La! I took care of that!" responded
Blakeney with his short, pleasant laugh. ** I
sent Tinville my autograph this morning."

" You are mad, Blakeney ! "

"Not altogether, my friend. My faith!
'twas not only foolhardiness caused me to
grant that devilish prosecutor another sight of
my scarlet device. I knew what you maniacs
would be after, so I came across in the Day-
dream, just to see if I couldn't get my share of
the fun."

" Fun, you call it?" queried the other bitterly.

"Nay! what would you have me call it?
A mad, insane, senseless tragedy, with but one
issue? — the guillotine for you all."

" Then why did you come ? "

" To What shall I say, my friend ? " re-
joined Sir Percy Blakeney, with that inimitable
drawl of His* " To give your demmed govern-

90 I WILL REPAY

ment something else to think about, whilst you
are all busy running your heads into a noose."

** What makes you think we are doing that?"

** Three things, my friend — may I offer you

a pinch of snuff— No ? — Ah well ! " And

with the graceful gesture of an accomplished
dandy, Sir Percy flicked off a grain of dust
from his immaculate Mechlin ruffles.

"Three things," he continued quiedy; "an
imprisoned Queen, about to be tried for her
life, the temperament of a Frenchman — some
of them — and the idiocy of mankind gener-
ally. These three things make me think
that a certain section of hot-headed Republi-
cans with yourself, my dear D^roulMe, en tite,
are about to attempt the most stupid, senseless,
purposeless thing that was ever concocted by
the excitable brain of a demmed Frenchman."

D6roulMe smiled.

" Does it not seem amusing to you, Blakeney,
that you should sit there and condemn anyone
for planning mad, insane, senseless things."

"La! rU not sit, 111 stand!" rejoined
Blakeney with a laugh, as he drew himself up
to his full height, and stretched his long, lazy
limbs. " And now let me tell you, friend, that
my league of The Scarlet Pimpernel never at-
tempted the impossible, and to try and drag
the Queen out of the clutches of these murderous
rascals now, is attempting the unattainable."

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL 91

"And yet we mean to try."

**I know it. I guessed it, that is why I
came : that is also why I sent a pleasant little
note to the Committee of Public Safety, signed
with the device they know so well : The Scarlet
Pimpernel."

-Well?"

" Well ! the result is obvious. Robespierre,
Danton, Tinville, Merlin, and the whole of the
demmed murderous crowd, will be busy looking
after me — a needle in a haystack. They 11 put
the abortive attempt down to me, and you
may — ma foil I only suggest that you may —
escape safely out of France — in the Day-
dreamy and with the help of your humble
servant."

" But in the meanwhile they'll discover you,
and they'll not let you escape a second time."

"My friend! if a terrier were to lose his
temper, he never would run a rat to earth. Now
your Revolutionary Government has lost its
temper with me, ever since I slipped through
Chauvelin's fingers ; they are blind with their
own fury, whilst I am perfectly happy and cool
as a cucumber. My life has become valuable
to me, my friend. There is someone over the

water now who Weeps when I don't return

No! no! never fear — ^they'll not get The
Scarlet Pimpernel this journey- — "

He lauglied, a gay, pleasant laugh, and his

9a 1 WILL REPAY

strong, firm face seemed to soften at thought of
the beautiful wife, over in England, who was
waiting anxiously for his safe return.

**And yet you'll not help us to rescue the
Queen?" rejoined D6roulMe, with some
bitterness.

" By every means in my power," replied
Blakeney, " save the insane. But I will help to
get you all out of the demmed hole, when you
have failed."

"We'll not fail," asserted the other hotly.

Sir Percy Blakeney went close up to his
friend and placed his long, slender hand, with a
touch of almost womanly tenderness upon the
latter's shoulder.

" Will you tell me your plans ? "

In a moment D6roul6de was all fire and
enthusiasm.

** There are not many of us in it," he began,
" although half France will be in sympathy with
us. We have plenty of money, of course, and
also the necessary disguise for the royal lady."

"Yes.?"

" I, in the meanwhile, have asked for and ob-
tained the post of Governor of the Conciergerie ;
I go into my new quarters to-morrow. In the
meanwhile, I am making arrangements for my
mother and — and those dependent upon me to
quit France immediately."

Blakeney had perceived the slight hesitation

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL 93

when D6rouldde mentioned those dependent
upon him. He looked scrutinisingly at his
friend, who continued quickly :

'■ I am still very popular among the people.
My family can go about unmolested. I must
get them out of France, however, in case — in
case "

" Of course," rejoined the other simply.

'' As soon as I am assured that they are safe,
my friends and I can prosecute our plans. You
see the trial of the Queen has not yet been
decided on, but I know that it is in the air.
We hope to get her away, disguised in one of
the uniforms of the National Guard. As you
know, it will be my duty to make the final round
every evening in the prison, and to see that
everything is safe for the night Two fellows
watch all night, in the room next to that occupied
by the Queen. Usually they drink and play
cards all night long. I want an opportunity to
drug their brandy, and thus to render them more
loutish and idiotic than usual ; then for a blow
on the head that will make them senseless. It
should be easy, for I have a strong fist, and
after that "

"Well? After that, friend?" rejoined Sir
Percy earnestly, " after that ? Shall I fill in the
details of the picture ? — the guard twenty-five
strong outside the Conciergerie, how will you
pass them ? "

94 I WILL REPAY

" I as the Governor, followed by one of my
guards "

"Togo whither?"

" I have the right to come and go as I please."

*' r faith! so you have, but 'one of your
guards' — eh? Wrapped to the eyes in a long
mantle to hide the female figure beneath. ' I have
been in Paris but a few hours, and yet already
I have realised that there is not one demmed
citizen within its walls, who does not at this
moment suspect some other demmed citizen of
conniving at the Queen's escape. Even the
sparrows on the house-tops are objects of sus-
picion. No figure wrapped in a mantle will from
this day forth leave Paris unchallenged."

*' But you yourself, friend ? " suggested D6-
roulMe. " You think you can quit Paris unre-
cognised — then why not the Queen ? "

" Because she is a woman, and has been a
queen. She has nerves, poor soul, and weak-
nesses of body and of mind now. Alas for her!
Alas for France! who wreaks such idle vengeance
on so poor an enemy ? Can you take hold of
Marie Antoinette by the shoulders, shove her
into the bottom of a cart and pile sacks of
p6tatoes on the top of her ? I did that to the
Comtesse de Tournai and her daughter, as stiff-
necked a pair of French aristocrats as ever
deserved the guillotine for their insane pre-
judices. But can you do it to Marie Antoinette ?

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL 95

She'd rebuke you publicly, and betray herself
and you in a flash, sooner than submit to a loss
of dignity."

" But would you leave her to her fate ? "

"Ah! there's the trouble, friend. Do you
think you need appeal to the sense of chivalry
of my league ? We are still twenty strong, and
heart and soul in sympathy with your mad
schem^. The poor, poor Queen! But you
are bound to fail, and then who will help you
all, if we too are put out of the way ? "

" We should succeed if you helped us. At
one time you used proudly to say : * The League
of The Scarlet Pimpernel has never failed.' "

** Because it attempted nothing which it
could not accomplish. But, la ! since you put

me on my mettle Demm it all! I'll have

to think about it ! "

And he laughed that funny, somewhat inane
laugh of his, which had deceived the clever
men of two countries as to his real personality.

D6roul^de went up to the heavy oak desk
which occupied a conspicuous place in the centre
of one of the walls. He unlocked it and drew
forth a bundle of papers.

"Will you look through these .^" he asked,
handing them to Sir Percy Blakeney.

"What are they?"

" Different schemes I have drawn up, in
case my original plan should not succeed."

96 I WILL REPAY

"Burn them, my friend," said Blakeney
laconically. " Have you not yet learned the
lesson of never putting your hand to paper ? "

" I can't burn these. You see, I shall not be
able to have long conversations with Marie
Antoinette. I must give her my suggestions
in writing, that she may study them and not
fail me, through lack of knowledge of her part."

** Better that than papers in these times, my
friend : these papers, if found, would send you,
untried, to the guillotine."

" I am careful, and, at present, quite beyond
suspicion. Moreover, among the papers is a
complete collection of passports, suitable for
any character the Queen and her attendant
may be forced to assume. It has taken me
some months to collect them, so as not to
arouse suspicion ; I gradually got them to-
gether, on one pretence or another : now I am
ready for any eventuality "

He suddenly paused. A look in his friend's
face had given him a swift warning.

He turned, and there in the doorway, holding
back the heavy portiere, stood Juliette, graceful,
smiling, a little pale, this no doubt owing to
the flickering light of the unsnuffed candles.

So young and girlish did she look in her soft,
white muslin frock that at sight of her the
tension in D6roulede's face seemed to relax.
Instinctively he had thrown the papers back

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL 97

into the desk, but his look had softened, from
the fire of obstinate energy to that of inexpres-
sible tenderness.

Blakeney was quietly watching the young
girl as she stood in the doorway, a little bashful
and undecided.

"Madame D^rouldde sent me," she said
hesitatingly, " she says the hour is getting late
and she is very anxious. M. D6roulMe, would
you come and reassure her ? "

** In a moment, mademoiselle," he replied
lightly, "my friend and I have just finished
our talk. May I have the honour to present
him? — Sir Percy Blakeney, a traveller from
England. Blakeney, this is Mademoiselle
Juliette de Marny, my mother's guest."

)

CHAPTER VII

A WARNING

Sir Percy bowed very low, with all the grace-
ful flourish and elaborate gesture the eccentric
customs of the time demanded.

He had not said a word, since the first ex-
clamation of warning, with which he had drawn
his friend^s attention to the young girl in the
doorway.

Noiselessly, as she had come, Juliette glided
out of the room again, leaving behind her an
atmosphere of wild flowers, of the bouquet she
had gathered, then scattered in the woods.

There was silence in the room for awhile.
D6roul^e was locking up his desk and slipping
the keys into his pocket.

''Shall we join my mother for a moment,
Blakeney?" he said, moving towards the
door.

" I shall be proud to pay my respects," replied
Sir Percy ; ** but before we close the subject, I
think rU change my mind about those papers.
If I am to be of service to you I think I had
best look through them, and give you my
opinion of your schemes."

98

A WARNING 99

D^roulMe looked at him keenly for a
moment

" Certainly," he said at last, going up to his
desk. ''I'll stay with you whilst you read them
through."

**La! not to-night, my friend," said Sir
Percy lightly ; " the hour is late, and madame is
waiting for us. They'll be quite safe with me,
an you'll entrust them to my care."

D^roulMe seemed to hesitate. Blakeney
had spoken in his usual airy manner, and was
even now busy readjusting the set of his per-
fectly-tailored coat.

" Perhaps youcannot quite trust me?" laughed
Sir Percy gaily. " I seemed too lukewarm just
now."

"No ; it's not that, Blakeney I" said D6roul6de
quietly at last. '* There is no mistrust in me,
all the mistrust is on your side."

"Faith! " began Sir Percy.

" Nay ! do not explain. I understand and ap-
preciate your friendship, but I should like to con-
vince you how unjust is your mistrust of one of
God's purest angels, that ever walked the earth."

"Oho! that's it, is it, friend D6roul6de?
Methought you had foresworn the sex al-
together, and now you are in love."

" Madly, blindly, stupidly in love, my friend,"
said D6rouldde with^a sigh. " Hopelessly, I
fear me ! "

loo I WILL REPAY

"Why hopelessly?"

" She is the daughter of the late Diic de
Marny, one of the oldest names in France ; a
Royalist to the backbone "

*' Hence your overwhelming sympathy for
the Queen ! "

"Nay! you wrong me there, friend. I'd
have tried to save, the Queen, even if I had
never learned to love Juliette. But you see
now how unjust were your suspicions."

"Had I any?"

" Don't deny it. You were loud in urging
me to burn those papers a moment ago.
You called them useless and dangerous and
now "

"I still think them useless and dangerous,
and by reading them would wish to confirm my
opinion and give weight to my arguments."

" If I were to part from them now I would
seem to be mistrusting her."

" You are a mad idealist, my dear D6roulMe!"

" How can I help it ? I have lived under the
same roof with her for three weeks now. I
have begun to understand what a saint is like."

"And 'twill be when you understand that
your idol has feet of clay that you'll learn the
real lesson of love," said Blakeney earnestly.
" Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom
you dare not touch, who hovers above you like
a cloud, which floats away from you even as

A WARNING loi

you gaze? To love is to feel one being in the
world at one with us, our equal in sin as well as
in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one
woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and
breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks
with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with
us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is
not a woman if she have not suffered, still less
a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the
feet of your idol an you wish, but drag her down
to your level after that — the only level she should
ever reach, that of your heart."

Who shall render faithfully a true account
of the magnetism which poured forth from this
remarkable man as he spoke : this well-dressed,
foppish apostle of the greatest love that man
has ever known. And as he spoke the whole
story of his own great, true love for the woman
who once had so deeply wronged him seemed
to stand clearly written in the strong, lazy, good-
humoured, kindly face glowing with tenderness
for her.

D6roul6de felt this magnetism, and therefore
did not resent the implied suggestion, anent the
saint whom he was still content to worship.

A dreamer and an idealist, his mind held spell-
bound by the great social problems which were
causing the upheaval of a whole country, he had
not yet had the time to learn the sweet lesson
which Nature teaches to her elect — the lesson of

I02 I WILL REPAY

a great, a true, human and passionate love. To
him, at present, Juliette represented the perfect
embodiment of his most idealistic dreams. She
stood in his mind so far above him that if she
proved unattainable, he would scarce have suf-
fered. It was such a foregone conclusion.

Blakeney's words were the first to stir in his
heart a desire for something beyond that quasi-
mediaeval worship, something weaker and yet
infinitely stronger, something more earthly and
yet almost divine.

" And now, shall we join the ladies ? " said
Blakeney after a long pause, during which the
mental workings of his alert brain were almost
visible, in the earnest look which he cast at his
friend. "You shall keep the papers in your
desk, give them into the keeping of your saint,
trust her all in all rather than not at all, and if the
time should come that your heaven-enthroned
ideal fall somewhat heavily to earth, then give
me the privilege of being a witness to your
happiness."

"You are still mistrustful, Blakeney," said
D6roulMe lightly. "If you say much more I'll
give these papers into Mademoiselle Marny's
keeping until to-morrow."

CHAPTER VIII

ANNE MIE

That night, when Blakeney, wrapped in his
cloak, was walking down the Rue Ecole de
M6decine towards his own lodgings, he sud-
denly felt a timid hand upon his sleeve.

Anne Mie stood beside him, her pale, melan-
choly face peeping up at the tall Englishman,
through the folds of a dark hood closely tied
under her chin,

" Monsieur," she said timidly, " do not think
me very presumptuous. I — I would wish to
have five minutes* talk with you — may I ? "

He looked down with great kindness at the
quaint, wizened little figure, and the strong face
softened at the sight of the poor, deformed
shoulder, the hard, pinched look of the young
mouth, the general look of pathetic helplessness
which appeals so strongly to the chivalrous,

" Indeed, mademoiselle," he said gently, " you
make me very proud ; an I can serve you in
any way, I pray you command me. But," he
added, seeing Anne Mie's somewhat scared
look," this street is scarce fit for private con-
versation. Shall we try and find a better spot ? "
103

I04 I WILL REPAY

Paris had not yet gone to bed. In these times
it was really safest to be out in the open streets.
There, everybody was more busy, more on the
move, on the lookout for suspected houses, leav-
ing the wanderer alone.

Blakeney led Anne Mie towards the Luxem-
bourg Gardens, the great, devastated pleasure-
ground of the ci-devant tyrants of the people.
The beautiful Anne of Austria, and the Medici
before her, Louis XIII. and his gallant mus-
keteers — all have given place to the great can-
non-forging industry of this besieged Republic.
France, attacked on every side, is forcing her
sons to defend her : persecuted, martyrised,
done to death by her, she is still their Mother :
La Patrie, who needs their arms against the
foreign foe. England is threatening the north,
Prussia and Austria the east. Admiral Hood's
flag is flying on Toulon Arsenal.

The siege of the Republic !

And the Republic is fighting for dear life.
The Tuileries and Luxembourg Gardens are
transformed into a township of gigantic smithies;
and Anne Mie, with scared eyes, and clinging
to Blakeney's arm, cast furtive, terrified glances
at the huge furnaces and the begrimed, darkly
scowling faces of the workers within.

** The people of France in arms against
tyranny!" Great placards, bearing these in-

iriting words, are affixed to gallows-shaped

ANNE MIE 105

posts, and flutter in the evening breeze, rendered
scorching by the heat of the furnaces all around.

Farther on, a group of older men, squatting
on the ground, are busy making tents, and some
women — the same Megseras who daily shriek
round the guillotine — ^are plying their needles
and scissors for the purpose of making clothes
for the soldiers.

The soldiers are the entire able-bodied male
population of France.

"The people of France in arms against
tyranny ! "

That is their sign, their trade-mark ; one of
these placards, fitfully illumined by a torch of
resin, towers above a group of children busy
tearing up scraps of old linen — their mothers',
their sisters' linen — in order to make lint for the
wounded.

Loud curses and suppressed mutterings fill
the smoke-laden air.

The people of France, in arms againsttyranny,
is bending its broad back before the most cruel,
the most absolute and brutish slave-driving ever
exercised over mankind.

Not even mediaeval Christianity has ever
dared such wholesale enforcements of its
doctrines, as this constitution of Liberty and
Fraternity.

Merlin's " Law of the Suspect " has just been
formulated. From now onward each and every

io6 I WILL REPAY

^ , citizen of France must watch his words, his
looks, his gestures, lest they be suspect. Of
what — of treason to the Republic, to the people ?
Nay, worse ! lest they be suspect of being sus-
pect to the great era of Liberty.

Therefore in the smithies and among the
groups of tent-makers a moment's negligence,
a careless attention to the work, might lead to
a brief trial on the morrow and the inevitable
guillotine. Negligence is treason to the higher
interests of the Republic.

Blakeney dragged Anne Mie away from the
sight. These roaring furnaces frightened her ;
he took her down the Place St Michel, towards
the river. It was quieter here.

" What dreadful people they have become,"
she said, shuddering ; " even I can remem-
ber how different they used to be."

The houses on the banks of the river were
mostly converted into hospitals, preparatory for
the great siege. Some hundred metres lower
down, the new children's hospital, endowed by
Citizen- Deputy D6roulede, loomed, white, clean,
and comfortable-looking, amidst its more squalid
fellows.

** I think it would be best not to sit down,"

suggested Blakeney, **and wiser for you to

throw your hood away from your face."

1^ He seemed to have no fears for himself;

^B many had said that he bore a channed life;

ANNE MIE 1 07

and yet ever since Admiral Hood had planted , ^
his flag on Toulon Arsenal, the English were
more feared than ever, and The Scarlet Pim-
pernel more hated than most

"You wished to speak to me about Paul
D6roul6de," he said kindly, seeing that the
young girl was making desperate efforts to say
what lay on her mind. " He is my friend, you
know."

'*Yes; that is why I wished to ask you a
question," she replied.

"Whatisit.?"

'*Who is Juliette de Mamy, and why did
she seek an entrance into Paul's house ? "

•' Did she seek it, then?"

" Yes ; I saw the scene from the balcony.
At the time it did not strike me as a farce. I
merely thought that she had been stupid and
foolhardy. But since then I have reflected.
She pVovoked the mob of the street, wilfully,
just at the very moment when she reached
M. D6roul6de's door. She meant to appeal to
his chivalry, and called for help, well knowing
that he would respond."

She spoke rapidly and excitedly now, throw-
ing off all shyness and reserve. Blakeney was
forced to check her vehemence, which might
have been thought ''suspicious" by some idle
citizen unpleasantly inclined.

" Well? And now ? " he asked, for the young

io8 I WILL REPAY

girl had paused, as if ashamed of her excite-
ment.

''And now she stays in the house, on and
on, day after day," continued Anne Mie, speak-
ing more quietly, though with no less intensity.
"Why does she not go? She is not safe in
France. She belongs to the most hated of all
the classes — the idle, rich aristocrats of the
old regime, Paul has several times suggested
plans for her emigration to England. Madame
D6roul6de, who is an angel, loves her, and
would not like to part from her, but it would
be obviously wiser for her to go, and yet she
stays. Why ? "

** Presumably because "

** Because she is in love with Paul ? " inter-
rupted Anne Mie vehemently. "No, no;

she does not love him — at least Oh!

sometimes I don't know. Her eyes light up
when he comes, and she is listless when he
goes. She always spends a longer time over
her toilet, when we expect him home to
dinner," she added, with a touch of naive
femininity. " But — if it be love, then that
love is strange and unwomanly ; it is a love
that will not be for his good "

" Why should you think that ? "

" I don't know," said the girl simply. " Isn't
it an instinct ? "

" Not a very unerring one in this case, I fear."

ANNE MIE 109

-Why?"

*' Because your own love for Paul D6roul6de

has blinded you Ah! you must pardon

me, mademoiselle ; you sought this conversa-
tion and not I, and I fear me I have wounded
you. Yet I would wish you to know how deep
is my sympathy with you, and how great my
desire to render you a service if I could."

** I was about to ask a service of you,
monsieur."

" Then command me, I beg of you."
"You are Paul's friend — persuade him that
that woman in his house is a standing danger
to his life and liberty."

"He would not listen to me,"
" Oh ! a man always listens to another."
"Except on one subject — the woman he
loves."

He had said the last words very gently but
very firmly. He was deeply, tenderly sorry
for the poor, deformed, fragile girl, doomed
to be a witness of that most heartrending of
human tragedies, the passing away of her own
scarce-hoped-for happiness. But he felt that
at this moment the kindest act would be one
of complete truth. He knew that Paul D6rou-
IMe's heart was completely given to Juliette de
Marny; he too, like Anne Mie, instinctively
mistrusted the beautiful girl and her strange,
silent ways, but, unlike the poor hunchback, he

no I WILL REPAY

knew that no sin which Juliette might commit
would henceforth tear her from out the heart
of his friend ; that if, indeed, she turned out to
be false, or even treacherous, she would, never-
theless, still hold a place in D6roul6de's very
soul, which no one else would ever fill.

" You think he loves her ? " asked Anne Mie
at last

** I am sure of it."

"And she?"

"Ah! I do not know. I would trust your
instinct — a woman's — sooner than my own,"

"She is false, I tell you, and is hatching
treason against Paul."

" Then all we can do is to wait."

"Wait?"

"And watch carefully, earnestly, all the
time. There! shall I pledge you my word
that D^roulMe shall come to no harm ? "

" Pledge me your word that you'll part him
from that woman,"

"Nay; that is beyond my power. A man
like Paul D^roulMe only loves once in life, but
when he does, it is for always."

Once more she was silent, pressing her lips
closely together, as if afraid of what she might
say.

He saw that she was bitterly disappointed,
and sought for a means of tempering the cruelty
of the blow.

ANNE MIE III

" It will be your task to watch over Paul,"
he said ; '' with your friendship to guard and
protect him, we need have no fear for his safety,
I think."

•' I will watch," she replied quietly.

Gradually he had led her steps back towards
the Rue Ecole de M6decine.

A great melancholy had fallen over his bold,
adventurous spirit. How full of tragedies was
this great city, in the last throes of its insane
and cruel struggle for an unattainable goal.
And yet, despite its guillotine and mock trials,
its tyrannical laws and overfilled prisons, its
very sorrows paled before the dead, dull misery
of this deformed girl's heart.

A wild exaltation, a fever of enthusiasm lent
glamour to the scenes which were daily enacted
on the Place de la Revolution, turning the final
acts of the tragedies into glaring, lurid melo-
drama, almost unreal in its poignant appeal to
the sensibilities.

But here there was only this dead, dull
misery, an aching heart, a poor, fragile creature
in the throes of an agonised struggle for a fast-
disappearing happiness.

Anne Mie hardly knew now what she had
hoped, when she sought this interview with Sir
Percy Blakeney. Drowning in a sea of hope-
lessness, she had clutched at what might prove
a chance of safety. Her reason told her that

112 r WILL REPAY

Paul's friend was right. D^roulMe was a man
who would love but once in his life. He had
never loved — for he had too much pitied — ^poor,
pathetic little Anne Mie.

Nay ; why should we say that love and pity
are akin ?

Love, the great, the strong, the conquering
god — Love that subdues a world, and rides
roughshod over principle, virtue, tradition, over
home, kindred, and religion — what cares he for
the easy conquest of the pathetic being, who
appeals to his sympathy ?

Love means equality — the same height of
heroism or of sin. When Love stoops to pity,
he has ceased to soar in the boundless space,
that rarefied atmosphere wherein man feels
himself made at last truly in the image of
God.

•t-A CHAPTER IX

JEALOUSY

At the door of her home Blakeney parted from
Anne Mie, with all the courtesy with which he
would have bade adieu to the greatest lady in
his own land.

Anne Mie let herself into the house with her
own latch-key. She closed the heavy door noise-
lessly, then glided upstairs like a quaint little
ghost

But on the landing above she met Paul
D6roulede.

He had just come out of his room, and was
still fully dressed.

" Anne Mie ! " he said, with such an obvious
cry of pleasure, that the young girl, with beating
heart, paused a moment on the top of the stairs,
as if hoping to hear that cry again, feeling that
indeed he was glad to see her, had been
uneasy because of her long absence.

" Have I made you anxious? " she asked at
last

"Anxious! "he exclaimed. ** Little one, I have
hardly lived this last hour, since I realised that
you had gone out so late as this, and all alone,"

H IJ3

I

114 I WILL REPAY

"How did you know ? "

'' Mademoiselle de Marny knocked at my
door an hour ago. She had gone to your
room to see you, and, not finding you there, she
searched the house for you, and finally, in her
anxiety, came to me. We did not dare to tell
my mother, I won't ask you where you have
been, Anne Mie, but another time, remember,
little one, that the streets of Paris are not safe,
and that those who love you suffer deeply,
when they know you to be in peril."

" Those who love me ! " murmured the girl
under her breath.

** Could you not have asked me to come with
you?"

*' No ; I wanted to be alone. The streets
were quite safe, and — I wanted to speak
with Sir Percy Blakeney."

**With Blakeney?" he exclaimed in bound-
less astonishment. "Why, what in the world
did you want to say to him ? "

The girl, so unaccustomed to lying, had
blurted out the truth, almost against her will.

" I thought he could help me, as I was much
perturbed and restless."

"You went to him sooner than to me?"
said Deroulede in a tone of gentle reproach,
and still puzzled at this extraordinary action on
the part of the girl, usually so shy and re-
served.

JEALOUSY IIS

" My anxiety was about you, and you would
have mocked me for it"

" Indeed, I should never mock you, Anne
Mie. But why should you be anxious about
me?"

" Because I see you wandering blindly on
the brink of a great danger, and because I see
you confiding in those, whom you had best
mistrust."

He frowned a little, and bit his lip to check
the rough word that was on the tip of his
tongue.

" Is Sir Percy Blakeney one of those whom
I had best mistrust ? " he said lightly.

** No," she answered curtly.

"Then, dear, there is no cause for unrest.
He is the only one of my friends whom you
have not known intimately. All those who are
round me now, you know that you can trust
and that you can love," he added earnestly and
significantly.

He took her hand ; it was trembling with
obvious suppressed agitation. She knew that
he had guessed what was passing in her mind,
and now was deeply ashamed of what she had
done. She had been tortured with jealousy for
the past three weeks, but at least she had
suffered quite alone : no one had been allowed
to touch that wound, which more often than
not, excites derision rather than pity. Now,

ii6 I WILL REPAY

by her own actions, two men knew her secret.
Both were kind and sympathetic; but D6roul6de
resented her imputations, and Blakeney had
been unable to help her.

A wave of morbid introspection swept over
her soul. She realised in a moment how petty
and base had been her thoughts and how pur-
poseless her actions. She would have given
her life at this moment to eradicate from
D6rouldde's mind the knowledge of her own
jealousy; she hoped that at least he had not
guessed her love.

She tried to read his thoughts, but in the
dark passage, only dimly lighted by the candles
in D6roul6de's room beyond, she could not see
the expression of his face, but the hand which
held hers was warm and tender. She felt her-
self pitied, and blushed at the thought. With a
hasty good-night she fled down the passage,
and locked herself in her room, alone with
her own thoughts at last.

I

CHAPTER X

DENUNCIATION

But what of Juliette ?

What of this wild, passionate, romantic
creature tortured by a Titanic conflict? She,
but a girl, scarcely yet a woman, torn by the
greatest antagonistic powers that ever fought
for a human soul. On the one side duty,
tradition, her dead brother, her father — above
all, her religion and the oath she had sworn
before God ; on the other justice and honour,
a case of right and wrong, honesty and pity.

How she fought with these powers now !

She fought with them, struggled with them
on her knees. She tried to crush memory,
tried to forget that awful midnight scene ten
years ago, her brother's dead body, her father's
avenging hand holding her own, as he begged
her to do that, which he was too feeble, too
old to accomplish.

His words rang in her ears from across that
long vista of the past.

" Before the face of Almighty God^ who sees
and hears me, I swear "

And she had repeated tho$e words loudly
117

I

ii8 I WILL REPAY

and of her own free will, with her hand resting
on her brother's breast, and God Himself look-
ing down upon her, for she had called upon
Him to listen.

" I swear that I will seek out Paul D6roul6de,
and in any manner which God may dictate to
me encompass his death, his ruin, or dishonour
in revenge for my brother's death. May my
brother s soul remain in torment until the final
Judgment Day if I should break my oath, but
may it rest in eternal peace, the day on which
his death is fitly avenged."

Almost it seemed to her as if father and
brother were standing by her side, as she
knelt and prayed. — Oh! how she prayed!

In many ways she was only a child. All
her years had been passed in confinement,
either beside her dying father or, later, between
the four walls of the Ursuline Convent. And
during those years her soul had been fed on
a contemplative, ecstatic religion, a kind of
sanctified superstition, which she would have
deemed sacrilege to combat.

Her first step into womanhood was taken
with that oath upon her lips ; since then, with
a stoical sense of duty, she had lashed herself
into a daily, hourly remembrance of the great
mission imposed upon her.

To have neglected it would have been, to her,
equal to denying God.

DENUNCIATION 119

She had but vague ideas of the doctrinal
side of religion. Purgatory was to her merely
a word, but a word representing a real spiritual
state — one of expectancy, of restlessness, of
sorrow. And vaguely, yet determinedly, she
believed that her brother s soul suffered, be-
cause she had been too weak to fulfil her
oath.

The Church had not come to her rescue.
The ministers of her religion were scattered
to the four corners of besieged, agonising
France. She had no one to help her, no one
to comfort her. That very peaceful, contem-
plative life she had led in the convent, only
served to enhance her feeling of the solemnity
of her mission.

It was true, it was inevitable, because it was
so hard.

To the few who, throughout those troublous
times, had kept a feeling of veneration for their
religion, this religion had become one of ab-
negation and martyrdom.

A spirit of uncompromising Jansenism seemed
to call forth sacrifices and renunciation, where-
as the happy-go-lucky Catholicism of the
past century had only suggested an easy,
flowered path, to a comfortable, well-upholstered
heaven.

The harder the task seemed which was set
before her, the more real it became to Juliette.

i

I20 I WILL REPAY

God, she firmly believed, had at last, after ten
years, shown her the way to wreak vengeance
upon her brother's murderer. He had brought
her to this house, caused her to see and hear
part of the conversation between Blakeney and
D6roul^de, and this at the moment of all
others, when even the semblance of a con-
spiracy against the Republic would bring the
one inevitable result in its train : disgrace first,
the hasty mock trial, the hall of justice, and
the guillotine.

She tried not to hate D^roul^de. She
wished to judge him coldly and impartially,
or rather to indict him before the throne of
God, and to punish him for the crime he had
committed ten years ago. Her personal feel-
ings must remain out of the question.

Had Charlotte Corday considered her own
sensibilities, when with her own hand she put
an end to Marat?

Juliette remained on her knees for hours.
She heard Anne Mie come home, and D6rou-
lede's voice of welcome on the landing. That
was perhaps the most bitter moment of this
awful soul conflict, for it brought to her mind the
remembrance of those others who would suffer
too, and who were innocent — Madame D6rou-
Idde and poor, crippled Anne Mie. They had
done no wrong, and yet how heavily would they
be punished !

DENUNCIATION 121

And then the saner judgment, the human,
material code of ethics gained for a while the
upper hand. Juliette would rise from her knees,
dry her eyes, prepare quietly to go to bed, and
to forget all about the awful, relentless Fate
which dragged her to the fulfilment of its will,
and then sink back, broken-hearted, murmuring
impassioned prayers for forgiveness to her
father, her brother, her God.

The soul was young and ardent, and it fought
for abnegation, martyrdom, and stern duty ; the
body was childlike, and it fought for peace, con-
tentment, and quiet reason.

The rational body was conquered by the
passionate, powerful soul.

Blame not the child, for in herself she was
innocent. She was but another of the many
victims of this cruel, mad, hysterical time, that
spirit of relentless tyranny, forcing its doctrines
upon the weak.

With the first break of dawn Juliette at last
finally rose from her knees, bathed her burning
eyes and head, tidied her hair and dress, then
she sat down at the table, and began to write.

She was a transformed being now, no longer
a child, essentially a woman — a Joan of Arc
with a mission, a Charlotte Corday going to
martyrdom, a human, suffering, erring soul,
committing a great crime for the sake of an idea.

She wrote out carefully and with a steady

122 I WILL JtB$i0f^t

hand that denunciation of Cftizdrk-Deputy D6-
roulMe which has become an historical docu-
ment, and is preserved in the chronicles of
France.

You have all seen it at the Mus6e Carnavalet
in its glass case, its yellow paper and faded ink
revealing nothing of the soul conflict of which
it was the culminating victory. The cramped,
somewhat schoolgirlish writing is the mute,
palhetic witness of one of the saddest tragedies,
that era of sorrow and crime has ever known :

To the Representatives of the People now sitting
in Assembly at the National Convention

You trust and believe in the Representative
of the people : Citizen- Deputy Paul D6roul6de.
He is false, and a traitor to the Republic. He
is planning, and hopes to effect, the release of
ci-devant Marie Antoinette, widow of the traitor
Louis Capet. Haste ! ye representatives of the
people! proofs of this assertion, papers and plans,
are still in the house of the Citizen- Deputy
D^roulede.

This statement is made by one who knows.

/. The %y^d Fructidor.

When her letter was written she read it
through carefully, made the one or two little
corrections, which are still visible in the docu-

y'^

^ * ilBwtrSrciATioN 123

ment, then foldlE^ilerlhissive, hid it within the
folds of her kerchief, and, wrapping a dark
cloak and hood round her, she slipped noise-
lessly out of her room.

The house was all quiet and still. She
shuddered a little as the cool morning air fanned
her hot cheeks : it seemed like the breath of
ghosts.

She ran quickly down the stairs, and as
rapidly as she could, pushed back the heavy
bolts of the front door, and slipped out into the
street.

Already the city was beginning to stir.
There was no time for sleep, when so much
had to be done for the safety of the threatened
Republic. As Juliette turned her steps towards
the river, she met the crowd of workmen, whom
France was employing for her defence.

Behind her, in the Luxembourg Gardens,
and all along the opposite bank of the river, the
furnaces were already ablaze, and the smiths at
work forging the guns.

At every step now Juliette came across the
great placards, pinned to the tall gallows-shaped
posts, which proclaim to every passing citizen,
that the people of France are up and in arms.

Right across the Place de I'lnstitut a proces-
sion of market carts, laden with vegetables and
a little fruit, wends its way slowly towards the
centre of the town. They each carry tiny

124 I WILL REPAY *

t|icolour flags, with a Pike and Cap of Liberty
surmounting the flagstaff.

They are good patriots the market-gardeners,
who come in daily to feed the starving nipb of
Paris, with the few handfuls of watery potatoes,
and miserable, vermin-eaten cabbages, which
that fraternal Revolution still allows them to
grow without hindrance.

Everyone seems busy with their work thus
early in the morning : the business of killing
does not begin until later in the day.

For the moment Juliette can get along quite
unmolested : the women and children are mostly
hurrying on towards the vast encampments in
the Tuileries, where lint, and bandages, and
coats for thesoldiers are manufactured all the day.

The walls of all the houses bear the great
patriotic device : " Libert^, Egalit6, Fraternity,
sinon La Mort " ; others are more political in
their proclamation : "La Republique une et
indivisible."

But on the walls of the Louvre, of the great
palace of whilom kings, where the Roi Soleil
held his Court, and flirted with the prettiest
women in France, there the new and great
Republic has affixed its final mandate.

A great poster glued to the wall bears the
words: "La Loi concernan les Suspects."
Below the poster is a huge wooden box with
a slit at the top.

DENUNCIATION 125

This i3 the latest invention for securing the
safety of ^this one and indivisible Republic.

Henceforth everyone becomes a traitor at
one lyord of denunciation from an idler or an
enemy, and, as in the most tyrannical days of
the Spanish Inquisition one-half of the nation
was set to spy upon the other, that wooden
box, with its slit, is put there ready to receive
denunciations from one man against another.

Had Juliette paused but for the fraction of a
second, had she stopped to read the placard
setting forth this odious law, had she only
reflected, then she would even now have turned
back, and fled from that gruesome box of in-
famies, as she would from a dangerous and
noisome reptile or from the pestilence.

But her long vigil, her prayers, her ecstatic
visions of heroic martyrs had now completely
numbed her faculties. Her vitality, her sensi-
bilities were gone : she had become an auto-
maton gliding to her doom, without a thought
or a tremor.

She drew the letter from her bosom, and
with a steady hand dropped it into the box.
The irreclaimable had now occurred. Nothing
she could henceforth - say or do, no prayers or
agonised vigils, no miracles even, could undo
her action or save Paul D6roulMe from trial
and guillotine.

One or two groups of people hurrying to

126 I WILL REPAY

their work had seen her drop the letter into the
box. A couple of small children paused, finger
in mouth, gazing at her with inane curiosity ;
one woman uttered a coarse jest, all of them
shrugged their shoulders, and passed on, on
their way. Those who habitually crossed this
spot were used to such sights.

That wooden box, with its mouthlike slit
was like an insatiable monster that was con-
stantly fed, yet was still gaping for more.

Having done the deed Juliette turned, and as
rapidly as she had come, so she went back to
her temporary home.

A home no more now ; she must leave it at
once, to-day if possible. This much she knew,
that she no longer could touch the bread of the
man she had betrayed. She would not appear
at breakfast, she could plead a headache, and in
the afternoon Petronelle should pack her things.

She turned into a little shop close by, and
asked for a glass of milk and a bit of bread.
The woman who served her eyed her with some
curiosity, for Juliette just now looked almost out
of her mind.

She had not yet begun to think, and she h^
ceased to suffer.

Both would come presently, and with them
the memory of this last irretrievable hour and
a just estimate of what she had done.

CHAPTER XI

"VENGEANCE IS MINE*'

The pretence of a headache enabled Juliette to
keep in her room the greater part of the day.
She would have liked to shut herself out from
the entire world during those hours which she
spent face to face with her own thoughts and
her own sufferings.

The sight of Anne Mie's pathetic little face
as she brought her food and delicacies and
various little comforts, was positive torture to
the poor, harrowed soul.

At every sound in the great, silent house she
started up, quivering with apprehension and
horror. Had the sword of Damocles, which she
herself had suspended, already fallen over the
heads of those who had shown her nothing but
kindness ?

pihe could not think of Madame D^roul^de
or of Anne Mie without the most agonising, the
most tortui^ng shame.

And what of him — the man she had so re-
morselessly, so ruthlessly betrayed to a tribunal
which would know no mercy ?
127

128 I WILL REPAY

Juliette dared not think of him.

She had never tried to analyse her feelings
with regard to him. At the time of Charlotte
Corday's trial, when his sonorous voice rang out
in its pathetic appeal for the misguided woman,
Juliette had given him ungrudging admiration.
She remembered now how strongly his magnetic
personality had roused in her a feeling of en-
thusiasm for the poor girl, who had come from
the depths of her quiet provincial home, in order
to accomplish the horrible deed which would
immortalise her name through all the ages to
come, and cause her countrymen to proclaim her
"greater than Brutus."

D6roul6de was pleading for the life of that
woman, and it was his very appeal which had
aroused Juliette's dormant energy, for the cause
which her dead father had enjoined her not to
forget. It was D6roul6de again whom she had
seen but a few weeks ago, standing alone before
the mob who would have torn her to pieces,
haranguing them on her behalf, speaking to them
with that quiet, strong voice of his, ruling them
with the rule of love and pity, and turning their
wrath to gentleness.

Did she hate him, then ?

Surely, surely she hated him for having thrust
himself into her life, for having caused her
brother's death and covered her father's declin-
ing years with sorrow. And, above all, she hated

« VENGEANCE IS MINE'' 129

him — indeed, indeed it was hate ! — for being the
cause of this most hideous action of her life: an
action to which she had been driven against her
will, one of basest ingratitude and treachery,
foreign to every sentiment within her heart,
cowardly, abject, the unconscious outcome of this
strange magnetism which emanated from him
and had cast a spell over her, transforming her
individuality and will power, and making of her
an unconscious and automatic instrument of
Fate.

She would not speak of God's finger again :
it was Fate — pagan, devilish Fate ! — the weird,
shrivelled women who sit and spin their inter-
minable thread. They had decreed ; and Juliette,
unable to fight, blind and broken by the conflict,
had succumbed to the Megseras and their relent-
less wheel.

At length silence and loneliness became un-
endurable. She called to P6tronelle, and ordered
her to pack her boxes.

"We leave for England to-day," she said
curtly. '

"For England?" gasped the worthy old
soul, who was feeling very happy and comfort-
able in this hospitable house, and was loth to
leave it. " So soon ? "

" Why, yes ; we had talked of it for some time.
We cannot remain here always. My cousins
De Cr^cy are there, and my aunt De Coudre-
I

i

130 I WILL REPAY

mont. We shall be among friends, P6tronelle,
if we ever get there."

"If we ever get there ! " sighed poor P6t-
ronelle ; "we have but very little money, ma
chirie, and no passports. Have you thought
of asking M. D6roul6de for them."

" No, no," rejoined Juliette hastily ; " rU .see
to the passports somehow, P6tnMiell<i. . JSir
Percy Blakeney is English ; he'll tell me what
to do." ' *•

" Do you know where he lives, my jewel ? "

" Yes ; I heard him tell Madame D6roul6de
last night that he was lodging with a pro-
vincial named Brogard at the Sign of the
Cruche Cass^e. Til go seek him, P6tronelle ; I
am sure he will help me. The English are so
resourceful and practical. He'll get us our
passports, I know, and advise us as to the best
way to proceed. Do you stay here and get all
our things ready. Til not be long."

She took up a cloak and hood, and, throwing
them over her arm, she slipped out of the room.

D6roulede had left the house earlier in the
day. She hoped that he had not yet returned,
and ran down the stairs quickly, so that she
might go out unperceived.

The house was quite peaceful and still. It
seemed strange to Juliette that there did not
hang over it some sort of pall-like presentiment
of coming evil.

^'VENGEANCE IS MINE'' 131

From the kitchen, at some little distance from
the hall, Anne Mie's voice was heard singing
an old ditty :

" De ta tige d^tach^e
Pauvre feuille d^ssichde
Od vas-tu?"

JUiejtttt paused a moment. An awful ache
had seized her heart ; her eyes unconsciously
filled' with tears, as they roamed round the walls
of this house which had sheltered her so
hospitably, these three weeks past.

And now whither was she going? Like the
poor, dead leaf of the song, she was a wastrel,
torn from the parent bough, homeless, friend-
less, having turned against the one hand which,
in this great time of peril, had been extended
to her in kindness and in love.

Conscience was beginning to rise up against
her, and that hydra-headed tyrant Remorse.
She closed her eyes to shut out the hideous
vision of her crime ; she tried to forget this
home which her treachery had desecrated.

" Je vais oil va toute chose
Oh. va la feuille de rose
Et la feuille de laurier,"

sang Anne Mie* plaintively.

A great sob broke from Juliette's aching

132 I WILL REPAY

heart. The misery of it all was more than she
could bear. Ah, pity her if you can! She
had fought and striven, and been conquered.
A girl's soul is so young, so impressionable ; and
she had grown up with that one, awful, all-per-
vading idea of duty to accomplish, a most solemn
oath to fulfil, one sworn to her dying father, and
on the dead body of her brother. She had
begged for guidance, prayed for release, and the
voice from above had remained silent. Weak,
miserable, cringing, the human soul, when torn
with earthly passion, must look to its own
strength for the fight.

And now the end had come. That swift, scarce
tangible dream of peace, which had flitted
through her mind during the past few weeks,
had vanished with the dawn, and she was left
desolate, alone with her great sin and its life-
long expiation.

Scarce knowing what she did, she fell on her
knees, there on that threshold, which she was
about to leave for ever. Fate had placed on
her young shoulders a burden too heavy for her
to bear.

'* Juliette!"

At first she did not move. It was his voice
coming from the study behind her. Its magic
thrilled her, as it had done that day in the Hall
of Justice. Strong, passionate, tender, it seemed
now to raise every echo of response in her heart.

"VENGEANCE IS MINE'' 133

She thought it was a dream, and remained there
on her knees lest it should be dispelled.

Then she heard his footsteps on the flagstones
of the hall. Anne Mie's plaintive singing had
died away in the distance. She started, and
jumped to her feet, hastily drying her eyes.
The momentary dream was dispelled, and she
was ashamed of her weakness.

He, the cause of all her sorrows, of her sin,
and of her degradation, had no right to see her
suffer.

She would have fled out of the house now,
but it was too late. He had come out of his
study, and, seeing her there on her knees
weeping, he came quickly forward, trying, with
all the innate chivalry of his upright nature, not
to let her see that he had been a witness to her
tears.

'* You are going out, mademoiselle ? " he said
courteously, as, wrapping her cloak around her,
she was turning towards the door.

"Yes, yes," she replied hastily; **a small
errand, I "

" Is it anything I can do for you ? "

•* No."

" If — " he added, with visible embarrassment,
" if your errand would brook a delay, might I
crave the honour of your presence in my study
for a few moments ? "

'*My errand brooks of no delay, Citizen

134 I WILL REPAY

D6rouldde," she said as composedly as she could,
"and perhaps on my return I might "

** I am leaving almost directly, mademoiselle,
and I would wish to bid you good-bye."

He stood aside to allow her to pass, either out,
through the street door or across the hall to his
study.

There had been no reproach in his voice
towards the guest, who was thus leaving him
without a word of farewell. Perhaps if there had
been any, Juliette would have rebelled. As it
was, an unconquerable magnetism seemed to
draw her towards him, and, making an almost
imperceptible sign of acquiescence, she glided
past him into his room.

The study was dark and cool ; for the room
faced the west, and the shutters had been closed,
in order to keep out the hot August sun. At
first Juliette could see nothing, but she felt his
presence near her, as he followed her into the
room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

" It is kind of you, mademoiselle," he
said gently, "to accede to my request, which
was perhaps presumptuous. But, you see, I
am leaving this house to-day, and I had a sel-
fish longing to hear your voice bidding me
farewell."

Juliette's large, burning eyes were gradually
piercing the semi-gloom around her. She could
see him distinctly now, standing close beside her,

^VENGEANCE IS MINE'' 135

in an attitude of the deepest, almost reverential
respect.

The study was as usual neat and tidy, denoting
the orderly habits of a man of action and energy.
On the ground there was a valise, ready strapped
as if for a journey, and on the top of it a bulky
letter-case of stout pigskin, secured with a
small steel lock. Juliette's eyes fastened upon
this case with a look of fascination and of horror.
Obviously it contained D^roulede s papers, the
plans for Marie Antoinette's escape, the pass-
ports of which he had spoken the day before to
his friend. Sir Percy Blakeney — the proofs, in
fact, which she had offered to the representa-
tives of the people, in support of her denuncia-
tion of the Citizen- Deputy.

After his request he had said nothing more.
He was waiting for her to speak ; but her voice
felt parched ; it seemed to her as if hands of
steel were gripping her throat, smothering the
words she would have longed to speak.

"Will you not wish me godspeed, made-
moiselle ? " he repeated gently.

''Godspeed.^" Oh! the awful irony of it
all! Should God speed him to a mock trial
and to the guillotine? He was going thither,
though he did not know it, and was even now
trying to take the hand which had deliberately
sent him there.

At last she made an effort to speak, and

136 I WILL REPAY

in a toneless, even voice she contrived to
murmur :

"You are not going for long, Citizen-
Deputy?"

"In these times, mademoiselle," he replied,
"any farewell might be for ever. But I am
actually going for a month to the Conciergerie,
to take charge of the unfortunate prisoner
there."

" For a month ! " she repeated mechanically.

" Oh yes ! " he said, with a smile. " You see,
our present Government is afraid that poor
Marie Antoinette will exercise her fascinations
over any lieutenant - governor of her prison,
if he remain near her long enough, so a new
one is appointed every month. I shall be
in charge during this coming Vend6miaire. I
shall hope to return before the equinox, but —
who can tell ? "

"In any case then, Citoyen D6roulede, the
farewell I bid you to-night will be a very long
one."

"A month will seem a century to me," he
said earnestly, "since I must spend it without
seeing you, but "

He looked long and searchingly at her. He
did not understand her in her present mood,
so scared and wild did she seem, so unlike that
girlish, light-hearted self, which had made the
dull old house so bright these past few weeks.

"VENGEANCE IS MINE'' 137

" But I should not dare to hope," he
murmured, " that a simila;* reason would cause
you to call that month a long one."
. She turned perhaps a trifle paler than she
had been hitherto, and her eyes roamed round
the room like those of a trapped hare seeking
to escape.

"You misunderstand me, Citoyen D^roul^de,"
she said at last hurriedly. ** You have all been
kind — very kind — but P6tronelle and I can
no longer trespass on your hospitality. We
have friends in England, and many enemies
here "

*' I know," he interrupted quietly ; **it would
be the most arrant selfishness on my part to
suggest, that you should stay here an hour
longer than is necessary. I fear that after to-
day my roof may no longer prove a sheltering
one for you. But will you allow me to arrange
for your safety, as I am arranging for that of
my mother and Anne Mie ? My English friend,
Sir Percy Blakeney, has a yacht in readiness
off the Normandy coast. I have already seen
to your passports and to all the arrangements
of your journey as far as there, and Sir Percy,
or one of his friends, will see you safely on
board the English yacht. He has given me
his promise that he will do this, and I trust
him as I would myself. For the journey
through France, my name is a sufficient

138 I WILL REPAY

guarantee that you will be unmolested ; and,
if you will allow it, my mother and Anne Mie
will travel in your company. Then "

" I pray you stop, Citizen D6roulMe," she
suddenly interrupted excitedly. * * You must for-
give me, but I cannot allow you thus to make
any arrangements for me. P6tronelle and I
must do as best we can. All your time and
trouble should be spent for the benefit of those
who have a claim upon you, whilst I "

" You speak unkindly, mademoiselle ; there
is no question of claim."

" And you have no right to think " she

continued, with growing, nervous excitement,
drawing her hand hurriedly away, for he had
tried to seize it.

"Ah! pardon me," he interrupted earnestly,
" there you are wrong. I have the right to
think of you and for you — the inalienable right
conferred upon me by my great love for yoa"

" Citizen-Deputy ! "

" Nay, Juliette ; I know my folly, and I know
my presumption. I know the pride of your
caste and of your party, and how much you
despise the partisan of the squalid mob of
France. Have I said that I aspired to gain
your love ? I wonder if I have ever dreamed
it ? I only know, Juliette, that you are to me
something akin to the angels, something white
and ethereal, intangible, and perhaps ununder-

^* VENGEANCE IS MINE'* 139

standable. Yet, knowing my folly, I glory in
it, my dear, and I would not let you go out of
my life without telling you of that, which has
made every hour of the past few weeks a
paradise for me — my love for you, Juliette."

He spoke in that low, impressive voice of
his, and with those soft, appealing tones with
which she had once heard him pleading for
poor Charlotte Corday. Yet now he was not
pleading for himself, not for his selfish wish
or for his own happiness, only pleading for his
love, that she should know of it, and, knowing
it, have pity in her heart for him, and let him
serve her to the end.

He did not say anything more for a while ; he
had taken her hand, which she no longer with-
drew from him, for there was sweet pleasure in
feeling his strong fingers close tremblingly over
hers. He pressed his lips upon her hand, upon
the soft palm and delicate wrist, his burning
kisses bearing witness to the tumultuous passion,
which his reverence for her was holding in check.

She tried to tear herself away from him, but
he would not let her go :

"Do not go away just yet, Juliette," he
pleaded. " Think ! I may never see you again ;
but when you are far from me — in England,
perhaps — amongst your own kith and kin, will
you try sometimes to think kindly of one who
so wildly, so madly worships you ? "

I40 I WILL REPAY

She would have stilled, an she could, the
beating of her heart, which went out to him
at last with all the passionate intensity of her
great, pent-up love. Every word he spoke had
its echo within her very soul, and she tried not
to hear his tender appeal, not to see his dark
head bending in worship before her. She
tried to forget his presence, not to know that
he was there — he, the man whom she had be-
trayed to serve her own miserable vengeance,
whom in her mad, exalted rage she had thought
that she hated, but whom she now knew that
she loved better than her life, better than her
soul, her traditions, or her oath.

Now, at this moment, she made every effort
to conjure up the vision of her brother brought
home dead upon a stretcher, of her father's
declining years, rendered hideous by the mind
unhinged through the great sorrow.

She tried to think of the avenging finger of
God pointing the way to the fulfilment of her
oath, and called to Him to stand by her in this
terrible agony of her soul.

And God spoke to her at last ; through the
eternal vistas of boundless universe, from that
heaven which had known no pity, His voice
came to her now, clear, awesome, and implac-
able:

" Vengeance is mine ! I will repay ! "

CHAPTER XII

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

"In the name of the Republic ! "

Absorbed in his thoughts, his dreams, his
present happiness, D6roul6de had heard nothing
of what was going on in the house, during the
past few seconds.

At first, to Anne Mie, who was still singing her
melancholy ditty over her work in the kitchen,
there had seemed nothing unusual in the per-
emptory ring at the front-door bell. She pulled
down her sleeves over her thin arms, smoothed
down her cooking apron, then only did she run
to see who the visitor might be.

As soon as she had opened the door, how-
ever, she understood.

Five men were standing before her, four of
whom wore the uniform of the National Guard,
and the fifth, the tricolour scarf fringed with gold,
which denoted service under the Convention.

This man seemed to be in command of the
others, and he immediately stepped into the
hall, followed by his four companions, who at a
sign from him, effectively cut off Anne Mie from
what had been her imminent purpose — namely,
141

142 I WILL REPAY

to run to the study and warn D6roul6de of his
danger.

That it was danger of the most certain, the
most deadly kind she never doubted for one
moment. Even had her instinct not warned her,
she would have guessed. One glance at the five
men had sufficed to tell her : their attitude, their
curt word of command, their air of authority as
they crossed the hall — everything revealed the
purpose of their visit : a domiciliary search in
the house of Citizen- Deputy D6roul^e.

Merlin's Law of the Suspect was in full
operation. Someone had denounced the Citizen-
Deputy to the Committee of Public Safety ; and
in this year of grace, 1793, and L of the Re-
volution, men and women were daily sent to the
guillotine on suspicion.

Anne Mie would have screamed, had she
dared, but instinct such as hers was far too
keen, to betray her into so injudicious an act.
She felt that, were Paul D6roulede s eyes upon
her at this moment, he would wish her to remain
calm and outwardly serene.

The foremost man — he with the tricolour scarf
— had already crossed the hall, and was stand-
ing outside the study door. It was his word of
command which first roused D6roulMe from his
dream :

** In the name of the Republic ! "

D6roulede did not immediately drop the small

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 143

hand, which a moment ago he had been cover-
ing with kisses. He held it to his lips once more,
very gently, lingering over this last fond caress,
as if over an eternal farewell, then he straight-
ened out his broad, well-knit figure, and turned
to the door.

He was very pale, but there was neither fear
nor even surprise expressed in his earnest,
deep-set eyes. They still seemed to be looking
afar, gazing upon a heaven-born vision, which the
touch of her hand and the avowal of his love had
conjured up before him.

"In the name of the Republic ! "

Once more, for the third time — according to
custom — the words rang out, clear, distinct,
peremptory.

In that one fraction of a second, whilst those
six words were spoken, D6roulede*s eyes wan-
dered swiftly towards the heavy letter-case,
which now held his condemnation, and a wild,
mad thought — the mere animal desire to escape
from danger — ^surged up in his brain.

The plans for the escape of Marie Antoinette,
the various passports, worded in accordance with
the possible disguises the unfortunate Queen
might assume — all these papers were more than
sufficient proof of what would be termed his
treason against the Republic.

He could already hear the indictment against
him, could see the filthy mob of Paris dancing

144 I WILL REPAY

a wild saraband round the tumbril, which bore
him towards the guillotine ; he could hear their
,!jif.- yells of execration, could feel the insults hurled
' '* against him, by those who had most admired,
most envied him. And from all this he would
have escaped if he could, if it had not been too
late.

It was but a second, or less, whilst the words
were spoken outside his door, and whilst all
other thoughts in him were absorbed in this one
mad desire for escape. He even made a move-
ment, as if to snatch up the letter-case and to
' hide it about his person. But it was heavy and
bulky ; it would be sure to attract attention, and
might bring upon him the additional indignity
of being forced to submit to a personal search.

He caught Juliette's eyes fixed upon him with
an intensity of gaze which, in that same one mad
moment, revealed to him the depths of her love.
Then the second's weakness was gone ; he was
once more quiet, firm, the man of action, ac-
customed to meet danger boldly, to rule and to
subdue the most turgid mob.

With a quiet shrug of the shoulders, he dis-
missed all thought of the compromising letter-
case, and went to the door.

Already, as no reply had come to the third
word of command, it had been thrown open from
outside, and D6rouldde found himself face to face
with the five men.

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 145

" Citizen Merlin ! " he said quietly, as he re-
cognised the foremost among them.

" Himself, Citizen - Deputy," rejoined the
latter, with a sneer, ''at your service."

Anne Mie» in a remote corner of the hall, had
heard the name, and felt her very soul sicken at
its sound.

Merlin ! Author of that infamous Law of the
Suspect which had set man against man, a father
against his son, brother against brother, and
friend against friend, had made of every human
creature a bloodhound on the track of his fellow-
men, dogging in order not to be dogged, de-
nouncing, spying, hounding, in order not to be
denounced.

And he, Merlin, gloried in this, the most fiend-
ishly evil law ever perpetrated for the degrada-
tion of the human race.

There is that sketch of him in the Mus6e
Camavalet, drawn just before he, in his turn,
went to expiate his crimes on that very guillotine,
which he had sharpened and wielded so power-
fully against his fellows. The artist has well
caught the slouchy, slovenly look of his loosely
knit figure, his long limbs and narrow head, with
the snakelike eyes and slightly receding chin.
Like Marat, his model and prototype, Merlin
affected dirty, ragged clothes. The real Sans-
cullottism, the downward levelling of his fellow-
men to the lowest rung of the social ladder,

146 I WILL REPAY

pervaded every action of this noted product of
the great Revolution.

Even D^rouIMe, whose entire soul was filled
with a great, all-understanding pity for the weak-
nesses of mankind, recoiled at sight of this in-
carnation of the spirit of squalor and degrada-
tion, of all that was left of the noble Utopian
theories of the makers of the Revolution.

Merlin grinned when he saw D6roul6de stand-
ing there, calm, impassive, well dressed, as if pre-
pared to receive an honoured guest, rather than
a summons to submit to the greatest indignity
a proud man has ever been called upon to suffer.

Merlin had always hated the popular Citizen-
Deputy. Friend and boon-companion of Marat
and his gang, he had for over two years now
exerted all the influence he possessed in order
to bring D^roulede under a cloud of sus-
picion.

But D^roulede had the ear of the populace.
No one understood as he did the tone of a Paris
mob ; and the National Convention, ever terrified
of the volcano it had kindled, felt that a popular
member of its assembly was more useful alive
than dead.

But now at last Merlin was having his way.
An anonymous denunciation against Derouldde
had reached the Public Prosecutor that day.
Tinville and Merlin were the fastest of friends,
so the latter easily obtained the privilege of be-

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 147

ing the first to proclaim to his hated enemy, the
news of his downfall

He stood facing D6roiil6de for a moment, en-
joying the present situation to its full. The light
from the vast hall struck full upon the powerful
figure of the Citizen- Deputy and upon his firm,
dark face and magnetic, restless eyes. Behind
him the study, with its closely-drawn shutters,
appeared wrapped in gloom.

Merlin turned to his men, and, still delighted
with his position of a cat playing with a mouse,
he pointed to D6roul6de, with a smile and a shrug
of the shoulders.

" Voyez-mot done fdy'^ht, said, witha coarse jest,
and expectoratingcontemptuouslyupon the floor,
" the aristocrat seems not to understand that we
are here in the name of the Republic. There is
a very good proverb, Citizen- Deputy," he added,
once more addressing D6rouldde, " which you
seem to have forgotten, and that is that the
pitcher which goes too often to the well breaks
at last. You have conspired against the liberties
of the people for the past ten years. Retribution
has come to you at last ; the people of France
have come to their senses. The National
Convention wants to know what treason you
are hatching between these four walls, and
it has deputed me to find out all there is to
know."

"At your service, Citizen-Deputy !" said

148 I WILL REPAY

D6rouldde, quiedy stepping aside, in order to
make way for Merlin and his men.

Resistance was useless, and, like all strong,
determined natures, he knew when it was best
to give in.

During this while, Juliette had neither moved
nor uttered a sound. Little more than a
minute had elapsed since the moment when
the first peremptory order, to open in the name
of the Republic, had sounded like the tocsin
through the stillness of the house. D6roul6de's
kisses were still hot upon her hand, his words
of love were still ringing in her ears.

And now this awful, deadly peril, which she
with her own hand had brought on the man
she loved !

If in one moment's anguish the soul be
allowed to expiate a lifelong sin, then indeed
did Juliette atone during this one terrible
second.

Her conscience, her heart, her entire being
rose in revolt against her crime. Her oath,
her life, her final denunciation appeared before
her in all their hideousness.

And now it was too late.

D^roulMe stood facing Merlin, his most
implacable enemy. The latter was giving
orders to his men, preparatory to searching the
house, and there, just on the top of the valise,
lay the letter-case, obviously containing those

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 149

papers, to which the day before she had over-
heard D6rouldde making allusion, whilst he
spoke to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney.

An unexplainable instinct seemed to tell her
that the papers were in that case. Her eyes
were riveted on it, as if fascinated. An awful
terror held her enthralled for one second more,
whilst her thoughts, her longings, her desires
were all centred on the safety of that one thing.

The next instant she had seized it and thrown
it, upon the sofa. Then seating herself beside
it, with the gesture of a queen and the grace of
a Parisienne, she had spread the ample folds of '
her skirts over the^ compromising case, hiding
it entirely from view.

Merlin in the hall was ordering two men to
stand one on each side of D6rouldde, and two
more to follow him into the room. Now he
entered it himself, his narrow eyes trying to
pierce the semi-obscurity, which was rendered
more palpable by the brilliant light in the hall.

He had not seen Juliette's gesture, but he
had heard the frou-frou of her skirts, as she
seated herself upon the sofa.

"You are not alone. Citizen- Deputy, I see,"
he said, with a sneer, as his snakelike eyes
lighted upon the young girl.

" My guest. Citizen Merlin," replied D6rou-
16de as calmly as he could — " Citizeness Juliette
Marny. I know that it is useless, under these

I50 I WILL REPAY

circumstances, to ask for consideration for a
woman, but I pray you to remember, as far as is
possible, that although we are all Republicans,
we are also Frenchmen, and all still equal in
our sentiment of chivalry towards our mothers,
our sisters, or our guests."

Merlin chuckled, and gazed for a moment
ironically at Juliette. He had held, between
his talon-like fingers, that very morning, a thin
scrap of paper, on which a schoolgirlish hand
had scrawled the denunciation against Citizen-
Deputy D6roul6de.

Coarse in nature, and still coarser in thoughts,
this representative of the people had very
quickly arrived at a conclusion in his mind,
with regard to this so-called guest in the
D6roul6de household.

"A discarded mistress," he muttered to him-
self. "Just had another scene, I suppose.
He's got tired of her, and she's given him away
out of spite."

Satisfied with this explanation of the situation,
he was quite inclined to be amiable to Juliette.
Moreover, he had caught sight of the valise,
and almost thought that the young girl's eyes
had directed his attention towards it

" Open those shutters ! " he commanded, '• this
place is like a vault."

One of the men obeyed immediately, and
as the brilliant August sun came streaming

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 151

into the room, Merlin once more turned to
D6roul&ie.

'' Information has been laid against you,
Citizen- Deputy," he said, "by an anonymous
writer, who states that you have just now in
your possession correspondence or other papers
intended for the Widow Capet : and the Com-
mittee of Public Safety has entrusted me and
these citizens to seize such correspondence, and
make you answerable for its presence in your
house."

D6roulMe hesitated for one brief fraction of
a second. As soon as the shutters had been
opened, and the room flooded in daylight, he
had at once perceived that his letter-case had
disappeared, and guessed, from Juliette's atti-
tude upon the sofa, that she had concealed it
about her person. It was this which caused
him to hesitate.

His heart was filled with boundless gratitude
to her for her noble effort to save him, but he
would have given his life at this moment, to
undo what she had done.

The Terrorists were no respecters of persons
or of sex. A domiciliary search order, in those
days, conferred full powers on those in authority,
and Juliette might at any moment now be
peremptorily ordered to rise. Through her
action she had made herself one with the Citizen-
Deputy ; if the case were found under the folds

1S2 I WILL REPAY

of her skirts, she would be accused of conniv-
ance, or at anyrate of the equally grave charge
of shielding a traitor.

The manly pride in him rebelled at the
thought of owing his immediate safety to a
woman, yet he could not now discard her help,
without compromising her irretrievably.

He dared not even look again towards her,
for he felt that at this moment her life as well
as his own lay in the quiver of an eyelid ; and
Merlin s keen, narrow eyes were fixed upon
him in eager search for a tremor, a flash, which
might betray fear or prove an admission of guilt.

Juliette sat there, calm, impassive, disdainful,
and she seemed to D6roul6de more angelic,
more unattainable even than before. He could
have worshipped her for her heroism, her re-
sourcefulness, her quiet aloofness from all these
coarse creatures who filled the room with the
odour of their dirty clothes, with their rough
jests, and their noisome suggestions.

"Well, Citizen -Deputy," sneered Merlin
after a while, " you do not reply, I notice."

"The insinuation is unworthy of a reply,
citizen," replied D6rouldde quietly; "my ser-
vices to the Republic are well known. I should
have thought that the Committee of Public
Safety would disdain an anonymous denuncia-
tion against a faithful servant of the people of
France."

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 153

•' The Committee of Public Safety knows its
own business best, Citizen- Deputy," rejoined
Merlin roughly. "If the accusation prove a
calumny, so much the better for you. I pre-
sume," he added, with a sneer, *'that you do
not propose to offer any resistance whilst these
citizens and I search your house."

Without another word D6roul6de handed a
bunch of keys to the man by his side. Every
kind of opposition, argument even, would be
worse than useless.

Merlin had ordered the valise and desk to
be searched, and two men were busy turning
out the contents of both on to the floor. But
the desk now only contained a few private
household accounts, and notes for the various
speeches which D^roulMe had at various times
delivered in the assemblies of the National
Convention. Among these, a few pencil jot-
tings for his great defence of Charlotte Corday
were eagerly seized upon by Merlin, and his
grimy, clawlike hands fastened upon this scrap
of paper, as upon a welcome prey.

But there was nothing else of any importance.
D6rouldde was a man of thought and of action,
with all the enthusiasm of real conviction, but
none of the carelessness of a fanatic. The
papers which were contained in the letter-case,
and which he was taking with him to the Con-
ciergerie, he considered were necessary to the

154 I WILL REPAY

success of his plans, otherwise he never would
have kept them, and they were the only proofs
that could be brought up against him.

The valise itself was only packed with the
few necessaries for a month's sojourn at the
Conciergerie ; and the men, under Merlin's
guidance, were vainly trying to find something,
anything that might be construed into treason-
able correspondence with the unfortunate
prisoner there.

Merlin, whilst his men were busy with the
search, was sprawling in one of the big leather-
covered chairs, on the arms of which his dirty
finger-nails were beating an impatient devil's
tattoo. He was at no pains to conceal the intense
disappointment which he would experience, were
his errand to prove fruitless.

His narrow eyes every now and then wan-
dered towards Juliette, as if asking for her help
and guidance. She, understanding his frame
of mind, responded to the look. Shutting her
mentality off from the coarse suggestion of his
attitude towards her, she played her part with
cunning, and without flinching. With a glance
here and there, she directed the men in their
search. D6roul6de himself could scarcely refrain
from looking at her ; he was puzzled, and vaguely
marvelled at the perfection, with which she
carried through her r6le to the end.

Merlin felt himself baffled.

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 155

He knew quite well that Citizen- Deputy
D6roulSde was not a man to be lightly dealt
with. No mere suspicion or anonymous de-
nunciation would be sufficient in his case, to
bring him before the tribunal of the Revolution.
Unless there were proofs — positive, irrefutable,
damnable proofs — of , Paul D6roul6de's treachery,
the Public Prosecutor would never dare to frame
an indictment against him. The mob of Paris
would rise to defend its idol ; the hideous hags,
who plied their knitting at the foot of the scaffold,
would tear the guillotine down, before they would
allow D6roulede to mount it.

That was D6rouldde*s stronghold : the people
of Paris, whom he had loved through all their
infamies, and whom he had succoured and helped
in their private need ; and above all the women
of Paris, whose children he had caused to be
tended in the hospitals which he had built for
them — this they had not yet forgotten, and
Merlin knew it One day they would forget —
soon, perhaps — then they would turn on their
former idol, and, howling, send him to his death,
amidst cries of rancour and execration. When
that day came there would be no need to worry
about treason or about proofs. When the popu-
lace had forgotten all that he had done, then
D6roul^e would fall.

But that time was not yet.

The men had finished ransacking the room ;

I

156 I WILL REPAY

every scrap of paper, every portable article had
been eagerly seized upon.

Merlin, half blind with fury, had jumped to his
feet.

" Search him ! " he ordered peremptorily.

D^roulMe set his teeth, and made no protest,
calling up every fibre of moral strength within
him, to aid him in submitting to this indignity.
At a coarse jest from Merlin, he buried his nails
into the palms of his hand, not to strike the foul-
mouthed creature in the face. But he submitted,
and stood impassive by, whilst the pockets of
his coat were turned inside out by the rough
hands of the soldiers.

All the while Juliette had remained silent,
watching Merlin as any hawk would its prey.
But the Terrorist, through the very coarseness of
his nature, was in this case completely fooled.

He knew that it was Juliette who had de-
nounced D^rouldde, and had satisfied himself as
to her motive. Because he was low and brutish
and degraded, he never once suspected the truth,
never saw in that beautiful young woman, any-
thing of the double nature within her, of that
curious, self-torturing, at times morbid sense of
religion and of duty, at war with her own upright,
innately healthy disposition.

The low-born, self-degraded Terrorist had put
his own construction on Juliette's action, and
with this he was satisfied, since it answered to

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 157

his own estimate of the human race, the race
which he was doing his best to bring down to
the level of the beast

Therefore Merlin did not interfere with
Juliette, but contented himself with insinuating,
by jest and action, what her share in this day's
work had been. To these hints D6roul6de, of
course, paid no heed For him Juliette was as
far above political intrigue as the angels. He
would as soon have suspected one of the saints
enshrined in Notre Dame as this beautiful,
almost ethereal creature, who had been sent by
Heaven to gladden his heart and to elevate his
every thought

But Juliette understood Merlin's attitude,
and guessed that her written denunciation had
come into his hands. Her every thought,
every living sensation within her, was centred
in this one thing: to save the man she loved
from the consequences of her own crime against
him. And for this, even the shadow of sus-
picion must be removed from him. Merlin's
iniquitous law should not touch him again.

When D6roulMe at last had been released,
after the outrage to which he had been per-
sonally subjected, Merlin was literally, and
figuratively too, looking about him for an issue
to his present dubious position.

Judging others by his own standard of con-
duct, he feared now that the popular Citizen-

158 I WILL REPAY

Deputy would incite the mob against him, in
revenge for the indignities which he had had
to suffer. And with it all the Terrorist was
convinced that D6rouldde was guilty, that
proofs of his treason did exist, if only he knew
where to lay hands on them.

He turned to Juliette with an unexpressed
query in his adder-like eyes. She shrugged
her shoulders, and made a gesture as if point-
ing towards the door.

"There are other rooms in the house besides
this," her gesture seemed to say; "try them.
The proofs are there, 'tis for you to find them."

Merlin had been standing between her and
D^rouldde, so that the latter saw neither query
nor reply.

" You are cunning, Citizen - Deputy," said
Merlin now, turning towards him, "and no doubt
you have been at pains to put your treason-
able correspondence out of the way. You
must understand that the Committee of Public
Safety will not be satisfied with a mere exam-
ination of your study," he added, assuming an
air of ironical benevolence, "and I presume
you will have no objection, if I and these
citizen soldiers pay a visit to other portions
of your house."

"As you please," responded D6roul6de drily.

"You will accompany us. Citizen- Deputy,"
commanded the other curtly.

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 159

The four men of the National Guard formed
themselves into line outside the study door;
with a peremptory nod, Merlin ordered D6rou-
16de to pass between them, then he too pre-
pared to follow. At the door he turned, and
once more faced Juliette.

"As for you, citizeness," he said, with a
sudden access of viciousness against her, "if
you have brought us here on a fool's errand,
it will go ill with you, remember. Do not
leave the house until our return. I may have
some questions to put to you."

CHAPTER XIII

TANGLED MESHES

Juliette waited a moment or two, until the
footsteps of the six men died away up the
massive oak stairs.

For the first time, since the sword of
Damocles had fallen, she was alone with her
thoughts.

She had but a few moments at her command
in which to devise an issue out of these tangled
meshes, which she had woven round the man
she loved.

Merlin and his men would return anon.
The comedy could not be kept up through
another visit from them, and while the com-
promising letter-case remained in D6roul6de*s
private study he was in imminent danger at the
hands of his enemy.

She thought for a moment of concealing the
case about her person, but a second's reflection
showed her the futility of such a move. She
had not seen the papers themselves ; any one
of them might be an absolute proof of D6rou-
lede's guilt; the correspondence might be in
his handwriting.

TANGLED MESHES i6i

If Merlin, furious, baffled, vicious, were to
order her to be searched ! The horror of the
indignity made her shudder, but she would
have submitted to that, if thereby she could
have saved D6roul6de. But of this she could
not be sure until after she had looked through
the papers, and this she had not the time
to do.

Her first and greatest idea was to get out of
this room, his private study, with the com-
promising papers. Not a trace of them must be
found here, if he were to remain beyond suspicion.

She rose from the sofa, and peeped through the
door. The hall was now deserted ; from the left
wing of the house, on the floor above, the heavy
footsteps of the soldiers and Merlin s occasional
brutish laugh could be distinctly heard.

Juliette listened for a moment, trying to under-
stand what was happening. Yes ; they had all
gone to D6roulede's bedroom, which was on the
extreme left, at the end of the first-floor landing.
There might be just time to accomplish what she
had now resolved to do.

As best she could, she hid the bulky leather
case in the folds of her skirt. It was literally
neck or nothing now. If she were caught on the
stairs by one of the men nothing could save her
or — possibly — D6roulede.

At anyrate, by remaining where she was, by
leaving the events to shape themselves, discovery

i6a I WILL REPAY

was absolutely certain. She chose to take the
risk.

She slipped noiselessly out of the room and
up the great oak stairs. Merlin and his men, busy
with their search in D6roulMe's bedroom, took
no heed of what was going on behind them ;
Juliette arrived on the landing, and turned
sharply to her right, running noiselessly along
the thick Aubusson carpet, and thence quickly
to her own room.

All this had taken less than a minute to ac-
complish. The very next moment she heard
Merlin's voice ordering one of his men to stand
at attention on the landing, but by that time she
was safe inside her room. She closed the door
noiselessly.

P6tronelle, who had been busy all the after-
noon packing up her young mistress's things, had
fallen asleep in an arm-chair. Unconscious of
the terrible events which were rapidlysucceeding
each other in the house, the worthy old soul was
snoring peaceably, with her hands complacently
folded on her ample bosom.

Juliette, for the moment, took no notice of her.
As quickly and as dexterously as she could, she
was tearing open the heavy leather case with a
sharp pair of scissors, and very soon its contents
were scattered before her on the table.

One glance at them was sufficient to convince
her that most of the papers would undoubtedly, if

TANGLED MESHES 163

found, send D^roulMe to the guillotine. Most of
the correspondence was in the Citizen- Deputy's
handwriting. She had, of course, no time to
examine it more closely, but instinct naturally
told her that it was of a highly compromising
character.

She gathered the papers up into a heap, tearing
some of them up into strips ; then she spread
them out upon the ash-pan in front of the large
earthenware stove, which stood in a comer of the
room.

Unfortunately, this was a hot day in August
Her task would have been far easier if she had
wished to destroy a bundle of papers in the depth
of winter, when there was a good fire burning in
the stove.

But her purpose was firm and her incentive,
the greatest that has ever spurred mankind to
heroism.

Regardless of any consequences to herself,
she had but the one object in view, to save D6-
roulMe at all costs.

On the wall facing her bed, and immediately
above a velvet-covered prie-dieu, there was
a small figure of the Virgin and Child — one of
those quaintly pretty devices for holding holy
water, which the reverent superstition of the past
century rendered a necessary adjunct of every
girl's room.

In front of the figure a small lamp was kept

1 64 I WILL REPAY

perpetually burning. This Juliette now took
between her fingers, carefully, lest the tiny flame
should die out First she poured the oil over the
fragments of paper in the ash-pan, then with the
wick she set fire to the whole compromising
correspondence.

The oil helped the paper to bum quickly ; the
smell, or perhaps the presence of Juliette in the
room, caused worthy old P6tronelle to wake.

"It's nothing, P6tronelle," said Juliette
quietly; **only a few old letters I am burning.
But I want to be alone for a few moments— will
you go down to the kitchen until I call you ? "

Accustomed to do as her young mistress
commanded, P6tronelle rose without a word.

"I have finished putting away your few
things, my jewel. There, there! why didn't
you tell me to burn your papers for you ? You
have soiled your dear hands, and "

" Sh! sh! P6tronelle!" said Julietteimpatiently,
and gently pushing the garrulous old woman
towards the door. " Run to the kitchen now
quickly, and don't come out of it until I call
you. And, P6tronelle," she added, "you will
see soldiers about the house perhaps."

" Soldiers ! The good God have mercy ! "

" Don't be frightened, P6tronelle. But they
may ask you questions."

" Questions ? "

" Yes ; about me."

TANGLED MESHES 165

" My treasure, my jewel," exclaimed P6tro-
nelle in alarm, **have those devils ? **

" No, no ; nothing has happened as yet, but,
you know, in these times there is always
danger."

** Good God! Holy Mary! Mother of God ! "

** Nothingll happen if you try to keep quite
calm and do exactly as I tell you. Go to the
kitchen, and wait there until I call you. If the
soldiers come in and question you, if they try
to frighten you, remember that we have nothing
to fear from men, and that our lives are in God's
keeping."

All the while that Juliette spoke, she was
watching the heap of paper being gradually re-
duced to ashes. She tried to fan the flames as
best she could, but some of the correspondence
was on tough paper, and was slow in being con-
sumed. P6tronelle, tearful but obedient, pre-
pared to leave the room. She was overawed
by her mistress's air of aloofness, the pale face
rendered ethereally beautiful by the sufferings
she had gone through. The eyes glowed large
and magnetic, as if in presence of spiritual
visions beyond mortal ken ; the golden hair
looked like a saintly halo above the white,
immaculate young brow.

P6tronelle made the sign of the cross, as if
she were in the presence of a saint.

As she opened the door there was a sudden

1 66 I WILL REPAY

draught, and the last flickering flame died out
in the ash-pan. Juliette, seeing that P6tronelle
had gone, hastily turned over the few half-
burnt fragments of paper that were left In
none of them had the writing remained legible.
All that was compromising to D6roul6de was
effectually reduced to dust. The small wick in
the lamp at the foot of the Virgin and Child had
burned itself out for want of oil ; there was no
means for Juliette to strike another light and to
destroy what remained. The leather case was,
of course, still there, with its sides ripped open,
an indestructible thing.

There was nothing to be done about that.
Juliette after a seconds hesitation threw it
among her dresses in the valise.

Then she too went out of the room.

CHAPTER XIV

A HAPPY MOMENT

The search in the Citizen- Deputy's bedroom
had proved as fruitless as that in his study.
Merlin was beginning to have vague doubts as
to whether he had been effectively fooled.

His manner towards D6roul6de had under-
gone a change. He had become suave and
unctuous, a kind of elephantine irony pervading
his laborious attempts at conciliation. He and
the Public Prosecutor would be severely blamed
for this day's work, if the popular Deputy, re-
lying upon the support of the people of Paris,
chose to take his revenge.

In France, in this glorious year of the Re-
volution, there was but one step between cen-
sure and indictment. And Merlin knew it.
Therefore, although he had not given up all
hope of finding proofs of D6roulMe's treason,
although by the latter's attitude he remained
quite convinced that such proofs did exist, he
was already reckoning upon the cat's paw, the
sop he would offer to that Cerberus, the
Committee of Public Safety, in exchange for
his own exculpation in the matter.
167

i68 I WILL REPAY

This sop would be Juliette, the denunciator,
instead of D6roul6de the denounced.

But he was still seeking for the proofs.

Somewhat changing his tactics, he had
allowed D6rouldde to join his mother in the
living-room, and had betaken himself to the
kitchen in search of Anne Mie, whom he had
previously caught sight of in the hall. There
he also found old P6tronelle, whom he could
scare out of her wits to his heart's content, but
from whom he was quite unable to extract any
useful information. P6tronelle was too stupid
to be dangerous, and Anne Mie was too much
on the alert.

But, with a vague idea that a cunning man
might choose the most unlikely places for
the concealment of compromising property, he
was ransacking the kitchen from floor to
ceiling.

In the living-room D6roul6de was doing his
best to reassure his mother, who, in her turn,
was forcing herself to be brave, and not to
show by her tears how deeply she feared for
the safety of her son. As soon as D6rouldde
had been freed from the presence of the soldiers,
he had hastened back to his study, only to find
that Juliette had gone, and that the letter-case
had also disappeared. Not knowing what to
think, trembling for the safety of the woman
he adored, he was just debating whether he

A HAPPY MOMENT 169

would seek for her in her own room, when she
came towards him across the landing.

There seemed a halo around her now. D6-
roulMe felt that she had never been so beauti-
ful and to him so unattainable. Something
told him then, that at this moment she was as
far away from him, as if she were an inhabitant
of another, more ethereal planet.

When she saw him coming towards her, she
put a finger to her lips, and whispered :

" Sh ! sh ! the papers are destroyed, burned."

** And I owe my safety to you ! "

He had said it with his whole soul, an infinity
of gratitude filled his heart, a joy and pride in
that she had cared for his safety.

But at his words she had grown paler than
she was before. Her eyes, large, dilated, and
dark, were fixed upon him with an intensity of
gaze which almost startled him. He thought
that she was about to faint, that the emotions
of the past half hour had been too much for her
overstrung nerves. He took her hand, and
gently dragged her into the living-room.

She sank into a chair, as if utterly weary and
exhausted, and he, forgetting his danger, for-
getting the world and all else besides, knelt at
her feet, and held her hands in his.

She sat bolt upright, her great eyes still fixed
upon him. At first it seemed as if he could not
be satiated with looking at her; he felt as if

■%

I70 I WILL REPAY

he had never, never really seen her. She had
been a dream of beauty to him ever since that
awful afternoon when he had held her, half
fainting, in his arms, and had dragged her under
the shelter of his roof.

From that hour he had worshipped her : she
had cast over him the magic spell of her refine-
ment, her beauty, that aroma of youth and in-
nocence which makes such a strong appeal to
the man of sentiment.

He had worshipped her and not tried to
understand. He would have deemed it almost
sacrilege to pry into the mysteries of her inner
self, of that second nature in her which at times
made her silent, and almost morose, and cast a
lurid gloom over her young beauty.

And though his love far her had grown in
intensity, it had remained as heaven born as he
deemed her to be — the love of a mortal for a
saint, the ecstatic adoration of a St Francis for
his Madonna.

Sir Percy Blakeney had called D^rouldde an
idealist. He was that, in the strictest sense,
and Juliette had embodied all that was best in
his idealism.

It was for the first time to-day, that he
had held her hand just for a moment longer
than mere conventionality allowed. The first
kiss on her finger-tips had sent the blood
rushing wildly to his heart; but he still wor-

A HAPPY MOMENT 171

shipped her, and gazed upon her as upon a
divinity.

She sat bolt upright in the chair, abandoning
her small, cold hands to his burning grasp.

His very senses ached with the longing to
clasp her in his arms, to draw her to him, and
to feel her pulses beat closer against his. It
was almost torture now to gaze upon her
beauty — that small, oval face, almost like a
child's, the large eyes which at times had
seemed to be blue but which now appeared to
be of a deep, unfathomable colour, like the
tempestuous sea.

'' Juliette I " he murmured at last, as his soul
went out to her in a passionate appeal for the
first kiss.

A shudder seemed to go through her entire
frame, her very lips turned white and cold,
and he, not understanding, timorous, chival-
rous and humble, thought that she was repelled
by his ardour and frightened by a passion to
which she was too pure to respond.

Nothing but that one word had been spoken
— -just her name, an appeal from a strong man,
overmastered at last by his boundless love — and
she, poor, stricken soul, who had so much loved,
so deeply wronged him, shuddered at the thought
of what she might have done, had Fate not helped
her to save him.

Half ashamed of his passion, he bowed his

(

172 I WILL REPAY

(Uirk head over her handstand, once more forcing
himself to be calm now, he kissed her finger-tips
reverently.

When he looked up again the hard lines in
her face had softened, and two tears were slowly
trickling down her pale cheeks.

"Will you forgive me, madonna?" he said
gently. " I am only a man and you are very
beautiful. No — don't take your little hands
away. I am quite calm now, and know how one
should speak to angels."

Reason, justice, rectitude — everything was
urging Juliette to close her ears to the words of
love, spoken by the man whom she had betrayed.
But who shall blame her for listening to the
sweetest sound the ears of a woman can ever
hear — the sound of the voice of the loved one in
his first declaration of love ?

She sat and listened, whilst he whispered to
her those soft, endearing words, of which a strong
man alone possesses the enchanting secret.

She sat and listened, whilst all around her was
still. Madame D^roulede, at the farther end of
the room, was softly muttering a few prayers.

They were all alone these two in the mad and
beautiful world, which man has created for him-
self — the world of romance — ^that world more
wonderful than any heaven, where only those
may enter who have learned the sweet lesson of
love. D6roulede roamed in it at will. He had

A HAPPY MOMENT 173

created his own romance, wherein he was as a
humble worshipper, spending his life in the ser-
vice of his madonna.

And she too forgot the earth, forgot the reality,
her oath, her crime and its punishment, and began
to think that it was good to live, good to love, and
good to have at her feet the one man in all the
world whom she could fondly worship.

Who shall tell what he whispered ? Enough
that she listened and that she smiled ; and he,
seeing her smile, felt happy.

CHAPTER XV

DETECTED

The opening and shutting of the door roused
them both from their dreams.

Anne Mie, pale, trembling, with eyes looking
wild and terrified, had glided into the room.

D6roulMe had sprung to his feet. In a
moment he had thrust his own happiness into
the background at sight of the poor child's ob-
vious suffering, He went quickly towards her,-
and would have spoken to her, but she ran past
him up to Madame D6roul6de, as if she were
beside herself with some unexplainable terror.

'*Anne Mie," he said firmly, "what is it.^
Have those devils dared "

In a moment reality had come rushing back
upon him with full force, and bitter reproaches
surged up in his heart against himself, for having
in this moment of selfish joy forgotten those who
looked up to him for help and protection.

He knew the temper of the brutes who had
been set upon his track, knew that low-minded
Merlin and his noisome ways, and blamed him-
self severely for having left Anne Mie and P6tron-
elle alone with him even for a few moments.

174

DETECTED 175

But Anne Mie quickly reassured him.

" They have not molested us much," she said,
speaking with a visible effort and enforced calm-
ness. " P^tronelle arid I were together, and they
made us open all the cupboards and uncover
all the dishes. They then asked us many
questions."

"Questions.? Of what kind .> " asked D6-
roulMe.

"About you, Paul," replied Anne Mie, "and
about maman, and also about — about the
citizeness, your guest."

D6roul^e looked at her closely, vaguely
wondering at the strange attitude of the child.
She was evidently labouring under some strong
excitement, and in her thin, brown little hand
she was clutching a piece of paper.

"Anne Mie! Child," he said very gently,
" you seem quite upset — ^as if something terrible
had happened. What is that paper you are
holding, my dear.?"

Anne Mie gazed down upon it. She was ob-
viously making frantic efforts to maintain her
self-possession.

Juliette at first sight of Anne Mie seemed
literally to have been turned to stone. She sat
upright, rigid as a statue, her eyes fixed upon
the poor, crippled girl as if upon an inexorable
judge, about to pronounce sentence upon her
of life or death.

176 I WILL REPAY

Instinct, that keen sense of coming danger
which Nature sometimes gives to her elect,
had told her that, within the next few seconds,
her doom would be sealed ; that Fate would
descend upon her, holding the sword of
Nemesis; and it was Anne Mie*s tiny, half-
shrivelled hand which had placed that sword
into the grasp of Fate.

'* What is that paper? Will you let me see
it, Anne Mie ? " repeated D^roulede.

"Citizen Merlin gave it to me just now,"
began Anne Mie more quietly; "he seems
very wroth at finding nothing compromising
against you, Paul. They were a long time in
the kitchen, and now they have gone to search
my room and P6tronelle*s ; but Merlin— oh!
that awful man! — he seemed like a beast
infuriated with his disappointment."

"Yes, yes."

" I don't know what he hoped to get out of
me, for I told him that you never spoke to
your mother or to me about your political
business, and that I was not in the habit of
listening at the keyholes."

««Yes. And "

" Then he began to speak of — of our guest
— but, of course, there again I could tell him
nothing. He seemed to be puzzled as to
who had denounced you. He spoke about
an anonymous denunciation, which reached the

DETECTED 177

Public Prosecutor early this morning. It was
written on a scrap of paper, and thrown into
the public box, it seems, and "

"It is indeed very strange," said D^roulMe,
musing over this extraordinary occurrence, and
still more over Anne Mie's strange excitement
in the telling of it. "I never knew I had a
hidden enemy. I wonder if I shall ever find
out "

" That is just what I said to Citizen Merlin,"
rejoined Anne Mie.

"What?"

" That I wondered if you, or— or any of us
who love you, will ever find out who your
hidden enemy might be."

"It was a mistake to talk so fully with
such a brute, little one."

" I didn't say much, and I thought it wisest
to humour him, as he seemed to wish to talk
on that subject."

" Well ? And what did he say ? "

" He laughed, and asked me if I would very
much like to know."

" I hope you said No, Anne Mie ? "

" Indeed, indeed, I said Yes," she retorted
with sudden energy, her eyes fixed now upon
Juliette, who still sat rigid and silent, watch-
ing every movement of Anne Mie from the
moment in which she began to tell her story.
"Would I not wish to know who is your

M

178 I WILL REPAY

enemy, Paul — the creature who was base
and treacherous enough to attempt to deliver
you into the hands of those merciless villains ?
What wrong had you done to anyone ? "

" Sh ! Hush, Anne Mie ! you are too ex-
cited," he said, smiling now, in spite of himself,
at the young girl's vehemence over what he
thought was but a trifle — the discovery of his
own enemy.

" I am sorry, Paul. How can I help being
excited," rejoined Anne Mie with quaint,
pathetic gentleness, "when I speak of such
base treachery, as that which Merlin has
suggested ? "

" Well ? And what did he suggest ? "

" He did more than suggest," whispered Anne
Mie almost inaudibly ; ** he gave me this paper
— the anonymous denunciation which reached
the Public Prosecutor this morning — he thought
one of us might recognise the handwriting."

Then she paused, some five steps away
from D6roulede, holding out towards him the
crumpled paper, which up to now she had
clutched determinedly in her hand. D6roulede
was about to take it from her, and just before
he had turned to do so, his eyes had lighted
on Juliette.

She said nothing, she had merely risen in-
stinctively, and had reached Anne Mie's side
in less than the fraction of a second.

DETECTED 179

It was all a flash, and there was dead silence
in the room, but in that one-hundredth part of
a second, D6roul6de had read guilt in the face
of Juliette.

It was nothing but instinct, a sudden, awful,
unexplainable revelation. Her soul seemed
suddenly to stand before him in all its misery
and in all its sin.

It was as if the fire from heaven had de-
scended in one terrific crash, burying beneath
its devastating flames his ideals, his happiness,
and his divinity. She was no longer there. His
madonna had ceased to be.

There stood before him a beautiful woman,
on whom he had lavished all the pent-up
treasures of his love, whom he had succoured,
sheltered, and protected, and who had repaid
him thus.

She had forced an entry into his house ; she
had spied upon him, dogged him, lied to him.
The moment was too sudden, too awful for him
to make even a wild guess at her motives. His
entire life, his whole past, the present, and the
future, were all blotted out in this awful dispersal
of his most cherished dream. He had forgotten
everything else save her appalling treachery ;
how could he even remember that once, long
ago, in fair fight, he had killed her brother ?

She did not even try now to hide her guilt.
A look of appeal, touching in its trustfulness,

i8o I WILL REPAY

went out to him, begging him to spare her further
shame. Perhaps she feh that love, such as his,
could not be killed in a flash.

His entire nature was full of pity, and to that
pity she made a final appeal, lest she should
be humiliated before Madame D6roulMe and
Anne Mie.

And he, still under the spell of those magic
moments when he had knelt at her feet, under-
stood her prayer, and closing his eyes just for
one brief moment in order to shut out for ever
that radiant vision of a pure angel whom he had
worshipped, turned quietly to Anne Mie.

"Give me that paper, Anne Mie," he said
coldly. " I may perhaps recognise the hand-
writing of my most bitter enemy."

'*'Tis unnecessary now," replied Anne Mie
slowly, still gazing at the face of Juliette, in
which she too had read what she wished to read.

The paper dropped out of her hand.

D6roulMe stooped to pick it up. He un-
folded it, smoothed it out, and then saw that it
was blank.

'* There is nothing written on this paper," he
said mechanically.

" No," rejoined Anne Mie ; ** no other words
save the story of her treachery."

"What you have done is evil and wicked,
Anne Mie."

" Perhaps so ; but I had guessed the truth,

DETECTED i8i

and I wished to know. God showed me this
way, how to do it, and how to let you know as
well."

" The less you speak of God just now, Anne
Mie, the better, I think. Will you attend to
maman.^ she seems faint and ill"

Madame D^roulMe, silent and placid in her
arm-chair, had watched the tragic scene before
her, almost like a disinterested spectator. All
her ideas and all her thoughts had been para-
lysed, since the moment when the first summons
at the front door had warned her of the im-
minence of the peril to her son.

The final discovery of Juliette's treachery had
left her impassive. Since her son was in danger,
she cared little as to whence that danger had
come.

Obedient to D^roulMe's wish, Anne Mie was
attending to the old lady's comforts. The poor,
crippled girl was already feeling the terrible re-
action of her deed.

I n her childish mind she had planned this way,
in which to bring the traitor to shame. Anne
Mie knew nothing, cared nothing, about the
motives which had actuated Juliette ; all she
knew was that a terrible Judas-like deed had
been perpetrated against the man, on whom
she herself had lavished her pathetic, hopeless
love.

All the pent-up jealousy which had tortured

1 82 I WILL REPAY

her for the past three weeks rose up, and goaded
her into unmasking her rival.

Never for a moment did she doubt Juliette's
guilt. The god of love may be blind, tradition
has so decreed it, but the demon of jealousy has
a hundred eyes, more keen than those of the
lynx.

Anne Mie, pushed aside by Merlin's men when
they forced their way into D6roulede's study,
had, nevertheless, followed them to the door.
When the curtains were drawn aside and the
room filled with light, she had seen Juliette
enthroned, apparently calm and placid, upon the
sofa.

It was instinct, the instinct born of her own
rejected passion, which caused her to read in the
beautiful girl's face all that lay hidden behind
the pale, impassive mask. That same second
sight made her understand Merlin's hints and
allusions. She caught every inflection of his
voice, heard everything, saw everything.

And in the midst of her anxiety and her
terrors for the man she loved, there was the
wild, primitive, intensely human joy at the
thought of bringing that enthroned idol, who
had stolen his love, down to earth at last.

Anne Mie was not clever; she was simple
and childish, with no complexity of passions or
devious ways of intellect. It was her elemental
jealousy which suggested the cunning plan for

DETECTED 183

the unmasking of Juliette. She would make
the girl cringe and fear, threaten her with
discovery, and through her very terror shame
her before Paul D6roulede.

And now it was all done ; it had all occurred
as she had planned it. Paul knew that his
love had been wasted upon a liar and a traitor,
and Juliette stood pale, humiliated, a veritable
wreck of shamed humanity.

Anne Mie had triumphed, and was profoundly,
abjectly wretched in her triumph. Great sobs
seemed to tear at her very heart-strings. She
had pulled down Pauls idol from her pedestal,
but the one look she had cast at his face had
shown her that she had also wrecked his life.

He seemed almost old now. The earnest,
restless gaze had gone from his eyes ; he was
staring mutely before him, twisting between
nerveless fingers that blank scrap of paper,
which had been the means of annihilating his
dream.

All energy of attitude, all strength of bearing,
which were his chief characteristics, seemed to
have gone. There was a look of complete
blankness, of hopelessness in his listless gesture.

'* How he loved her ! " sighed Anne Mie,
as she 'tenderly wrapped the shawl round
Madame D6roulMe's shoulders.

Juliette had said nothing ; it seemed as if
her very life had gone out of her. She was a

1 84 I WILL REPAY

mere statue now, her mind numb, her heart
dead, her very existence a fragile piece of
mechanism. But she was looking at D6roulMe.
That one sense in her had remained alive : her
sight.

She looked and looked : and saw every pass-
ing sign of mental agony on his face : the look
of recognition of her guilt, the bewilderment at
the appalling crash, and now that hideous death-
like emptiness of his soul and mind.

Never once did she detect horror or loathing.
He had tried to save her from being further
humiliated before his mother, but there was no
hatred or contempt in his eyes, when he realised
that she had been unmasked by a trick.

She looked and looked, for there was no hope
in her, not even despair. There was nothing in
her mind, nothing in her soul, but a great pall-
like blank.

Then gradually, as the minutes sped on, she
saw the strong soul within him make a sudden
fight against the darkness of his despair : the
movement of the fingers became less listless ;
the powerful, energetic figure straightened itself
out ; remembrance of other matters, other in-
terests than his own began to lift the over-
whelming burden of his grief.

He remembered the letter-case containing
the compromising papers. A vague wonder
arose in him as to Juliette's motives in warding

DETECTED 185

off, through her concealment of it, the inevitable
moment of its discovery by Merlin.

The thought that her entire being had under-
gone a change, and that she now wished to save
him, never once entered his mind ; if it had,
he would have dismissed it as the outcome of
maudlin sentimentality, the conceit of the fop,
who believes his personality to be irresistible.

His own self-torturing humility pointed but
to the one conclusion : that she had fooled him
all along ; fooled him when she sought his pro-
tection ; fooled him when she taught him to love
her ; fooled him, above all, at the moment when,
subjugated by the intensity of his passion, he
had for one brief second ceased to worship in
order to love.

When the bitter remembrance of that mo-
ment of sweetest folly rushed back to his
aching brain, then at last did he look up at her
with one final, agonised look of reproach, so
great, so tender, and yet so final, that Anne
Mie, who saw it, felt as if her own heart would
break with the pity of it all.

But Juliette had caught the look too. The
tension of her nerves seemed suddenly to relax.
Memory rushed back upon her with tumultuous
intensity. Very gradually her knees gave be-
neath her, and at last she knelt down on the
floor before him, her golden head bent under
the burden of her guilt and her shame.

CHAPTER XVI

UNDER ARREST

D^ROUL^DE did not attempt to go to hen

Only presently, when the heavy footsteps of
Merlin and his men were once more heard
upon the landing, she quietly rose to her feet

She had accomplished her act of humiliation
and repentance, there before them all. She
looked for the last time upon those whom she
had so deeply wronged, and in her heart spoke
an eternal farewell to that great, and mighty, and
holy love which she had called forth and then
had so hopelessly crushed.

Now she was ready for the atonement.

Merlin had already swaggered into the room.
The long and arduous search throughout the
house had not improved either his temper or
his personal appearance. He was more covered
with grime than he had been before, and his
narrow forehead had almost disappeared be-
neath the tangled mass of his ill-kempt hair,
which he had perpetually tugged forward aiid
roughed up in his angry impatience.

One look at his face had already told Juliette
what she wished to know. He had searched

iS6

UNDER ARREST 187

her room, and found the fragments of burnt
paper, which she had purposely left in the
ash-pan.

How he would act now was the one thing
of importance left for Juliette to ponder over.
That she would not escape arrest and con-
demnation was at once made clear to her.
Merlin's look of sneering contempt, when he
glanced towards her, had told her that.

D^roulede himself had been conscious of a
feeling of intense relief when the men re-entered
the room. The tension had become unendurable.
When he saw his dethroned madonna kneel in
humiliation at his feet, an overwhelming pain
had wrenched his very heart-strings.

And yet he could not go to her. The pas-
sionate, human nature within him felt a certain
proud exultation at seeing her there.

She was not above him now, she was no
longer akin to the angels.

He had given no further thought to his own
immediate danger. Vaguely he guessed that
Merlin would find the leather case. Where
it was he could not tell ; perhaps Juliette her-
self had handed it to the soldiers. She had only
hidden it for a few moments, out of impulse
perhaps, fearing lest, at the first instant of its
discovery. Merlin might betray her.

He remembered now those hints and insinua-
tions which had gone out from the Terrorist to

^

1 88 I WILL REPAY

Juliette whilst the search was being conducted
in the study. At the time he had merely looked
upon these as a base attempt at insult, and had
tortured himself almost beyond bearing, in the
endeavour to refrain from punishing that evil-
mouthed creature, who dared to bandy words
with his madonna.

But now he understood, and felt his very
soul writhing with shame at the remembrance
of it alL

Oh yes ; the return of Merlin and his men,
the presence of these grimy, degraded brutes,
was welcome now. He would have wished to
crowd in the entire world, the universe and its
population, between him and his fallen idol.

Merlin's manner towards him had lost nothing
of its ironical benevolence. There was even a
touch of obsequiousness apparent in the ugly
face, as the representative of the people ap-^
proached the popular Citizen- Deputy.

" Citizen - Deputy," began Merlin, " I have
to bring you the welcome news, that we have
found nothing in your house that in any way
can cast suspicion upon your loyalty to the Re-
public. My orders, however, were to bring you
before the Committee of Public Safety, whether
I had found proofs of your guilt or not. I have
found none."

He was watching D6roulede keenly, hoping
even at this eleventh hour to detect a look or

UNDER ARREST 189

a sign, which would furnish him with the proofs
for which he was seeking. The slightest sug-
gestion of relief on D6roulMe's part, a sigh of
satisfaction, would have been sufficient at this
moment, to convince him and the Committee of
Public Safety that the Citizen- Deputy was guilty
after all.

But D^roulSde never moved. He was suffi-
ciently master of himself not to express either
surprise or satisfaction. Yet he felt both — ^satis-
faction not for his own safety, but because of
his mother and Anne Mie, whom he would
immediately send out of the country, out of all
danger ; and also because of her, of Juliette
Marny, his guest, who, whatever she may have
done against him, had still a claim on his pro-
tection. His feeling of surprise was less keen,
and quite transient. Merlin had not found
the letter-case. Juliette, stricken with tardy re-
morse perhaps, had succeeded in concealing it.
The matter had practically ceased to interest
him. It was equally galling to owe his be-
trayal or his ultimate safety to her.

He kissed his mother tenderly, bidding her
good-bye, and pressed Anne Mie's timid little
hand warmly between his own. He did what
he could to reassure them, but, for their own
sakes, he dared say nothing before Merlin, as to
his plans for their safety.

After that he was ready to follow the soldiers.

■%

I90 I WILL REPAY

As he passed close to Juliette he bowed, and
almost inaudibly whispered :

"Adieu!"

She heard the whisper, but did not respond.
Her look alone gave him the reply to his
eternal farewell.

His footsteps and those of his escort were
heard echoing down the staircase, then the hall
door to open and shut. Through the open
window came the sound of hoarse cheering as
the popular Citizen- Deputy appeared in the
street.

Merlin, with two men beside him, remained
under the portico ; he told off the other two to
escort D^roulMe as far as the Hall of Justice,
where sat the members of the Committee of
Public Safety. The Terrorist had a vague fear
that the Citizen- Deputy would speak to the mob.

An unruly crowd of women had evidently been
awaiting his appearance. The news had quickly
spread along the streets that Merlin, Merlin him-
self, the ardent, bloodthirsty Jacobin, had made a
descent upon Paul D^roulMe's house, escorted
by four soldiers. Such an indignity, put upon the
man they most trusted in the entire assembly of
the Convention, had greatly incensed the crowd.
The women jeered at the soldiers as soon as they
appeared, and Merlin dared not actually forbid
D^roul^de to speak.

''Ala lantemeyvieux critin !'' shouted one

UNDER ARREST 191

of the women, thrusting her fist under Merlin's
nose,

"Give the word, Citizen- Deputy," rejoined
another, " and we'll break his ugly face. Nous
lui casserons la gueule ! "

" A la lanteme / A la lanteme / "

One word from D6roulMe now would have
caused an open riot, and in those days self-
defence against the mob was construed into
enmity against the people.

Merlin's work, too, was not yet accomplished.
He had had no intention of escorting D^roulMe
himself; he had still important business to
transact inside the house which he had just
quitted, and had merely wished to get the Citizen-
Deputy well out of the way, before he went up-
stairs again.

Moreover, he had expected something of a
riot in the streets. The temper of the people
of Paris was at fever heat just now. The hatred
of the populace against a certain class, and
against certain individuals, was only equalled
by their enthusiasm in favour of others.

They had worshipped Marat for his squalor
and his vices ; they worshipped Danton for his
energy and Robespierre for his calm ; they wor-
shipped D6rouldde for his voice, his gentle-
ness and his pity, for his care of their children
and the eloquence of his speech.

It was that eloquence which Merlin feared

192 I WILL REPAY

now ; but he little knew the type of man he had
to deal with.

D6roulMe's influence over the most unruly,
the most vicious populace the history of the
world has ever known, was not obtained through
fanning its passions. That popularity, though
brilliant, is always ephemeral. The passions
of a mob will invariably turn against those who
have helped to rouse them. Marat did not live
to see the waning of his star ; Danton was
dragged to the guillotine by those whom he had
taught to look upon that instrument of death as
the only possible and unanswerable political ar-
gument ; Robespierre succumbed to the orgies
of bloodshed he himself had brought about
But D6roulede remained master of the people
of Paris for as long as he chose to exert that
mastery. When they listened to him they felt
better, nobler, less hopelessly degraded.

He kept up in their poor, misguided hearts
that last flickering sense of manhood which
their bloodthirsty tyrants, under the guise of
Fraternity and Equality, were doing their best
to smother.

Even now, when he might have turned the
temper of the small crowd outside his door to
his own advantage, he preferred to say nothing ;
he even pacified them with a gesture.

He well knew that those whom he incited
against Merlin now would, once their blood was

UNDER ARREST 193

up, probably turn against him in less than half-
an-hour.

Merlin, who all along had meant to return to
the house, took his opportunity now. He al-
lowed D6roul&le and the two men to go on
ahead, and beat a hasty retreat back into the
house, followed by the jeers of the women.

'' A la latUerne, vieux crdtin I " they shouted
as soon as the hall door was once more closed
in their faces. A few of them began hammer-
ing against the door with their fists ; then they
realised that their special favourite, Citizen-
Deputy D6roul6de, was marching along between
two soldiers, as if he were a prisoner. The
word went round that he was under arrest, and
was being taken to the Hall of Justice — a
prisoner.

This was not to be. The mob of Paris had
been taught that it was the master in the city,
and it had learned its lesson well. For the
moment it had chosen to take Paul D6rouldde
under its special protection, and as a guard of
honour to him — the women in ragged kirtles,
the men with bare legs and stripped to the
waist, the children all yelling, hooting, and
shrieking — followed him, to see that none dared
harm him.

N

CHAPTER XVII

ATONEMENT

Merlin waited a while in the hall, until he
heard the noise of the shrieking crowd gradu-
ally die away in the distance, then with a
grunt of satisfaction he once more mounted
the stairs.

All these events outside had occurred during
a very few minutes, and Madame D6roul6de
and Anne Mie had been too anxious as to what
was happening in the streets, to take any notice
of Juliette.

They had not dared to step out on to the
balcony to see what was going on, and, there-
fore, did not understand what the reopening
and shutting of the front door had meant.

The next instant, however. Merlin's heavy,
slouching footsteps on the stairs had caused
Anne Mie to look round in alarm.

" It is only the soldiers come back for me,"
said Juliette quietly.

"For you?"

**Yes; they are coming to take me away.
I suppose they did not wish to do it in the

presence of M. D6roul^e, for fear "

194

ATONEMENT 195

She had no time to say more. Anne Mie
was still looking at her in awed and mute sur-
prise, when Merlin entered the room.

In his hand he held a leather case, all torn,
and split at one end, and a few tiny scraps of
half-charred paper. He walked straight up to
Juliette, and roughly thrust the case and papers
into her face.

" These are yours ? " he said roughly.

"Yes."

" I suppose you know where they were
found.?"

She nodded quietly in reply.

** What were these papers which you burnt?"

" Love letters."

"You lie!"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"As you please," she said curtly.

"What were these papers.?" he repeated,
with a loud obscene oath which, however,
had not the power to disturb the young girFs
serenity.

" I have told you," she said : " love letters,
which I wished to burn."

" Who was your lover ? " he asked.

Then as she did not reply he indicated the
street, where cries of " D6roul^de ! Vive D6-
roul^e ! " still echoed from afar.

" Were the letters from him ? "

" No."

^a.

196 I WILL REPAY

" You had more than one lover, then ? "

He laughed, and a hideous leer seemed further
to distort his ugly countenance.

He thrust his face quite close to hers, and
she closed her eyes, sick with the horror of this
contact with the degraded wretch. Even Anne
Mie had uttered a cry of sympathy at sight of
this evil-smelling, squalid creature torturing,
with his close proximity, the beautiful, refined
girl before him.

With a rough gesture he put his clawlike
hand under her delicate chin, forcing her to
turn round and to look at him. She shuddered
at the loathsome touch, but her quietude never
forsook her for a moment.

It was into the power of wretches such
as this man, that she had wilfully delivered
the man she loved. This brutish creature's
familiarity put the finishing touch to her own
degradation, but it gave her the courage to
carry through her purpose to the end.

*' You had more than one lover, then ? " said
Merlin, with a laugh which would have pleased
the devil himself. *' And you wished to send
one of them to the guillotine in order to make
way for the other ? Was that it ? "

"Was that it?" he repeated, suddenly seiz-
ing one of her wrists, and giving it a savage
twist, so that she almost screamed with the
in.

ATONEMENT 197

" Yes," she replied firmly.

"Do you know that you brought me here
on a fool's errand ? " he asked viciously ; " that
the Citizen- Deputy D6roul6de cannot be sent
to the guillotine on mere suspicion, eh? Did
you know that, when you wrote out that
denunciation ? *'

" No ; I did not know."

** You thought we could arrest him on mere
suspicion ? "

"Yes."

"You knew he was innocent.^"

" I knew it."

" Why did you burn your love letters ? "

" I was afraid that they would be found,
and would be brought under the notice of
the Citizen- Deputy."

"A splendid combination, ma foi!'' said
Merlin, with an oath, as he turned to the two
other women, who sat pale and shrinking in
a corner of the room, not understanding what
was going on, not knowing what to think or
what to believe. They had known nothing
of D6roul6de*s plans for the escape of Marie
Antoinette, they didn't know what the letter-
case had contained, and yet they both vaguely
felt that the beautiful girl, who stood up so
calmly before the loathsome Terrorist, was not
a wanton, as she tried to make out, but only
misguided, mad perhaps — perhaps a martyr.

198 I WILL REPAY

** Did you know anything of this ? " queried
Merlin roughly from trembling Anne Mie.

** Nothing," she replied.

'* No one knew anything of my private affairs
or of my private correspondence," said Juliette
coldly ; '' as you say, it was a splendid combina-
tion. I had hoped that it would succeed.
But I understand now that Citizen- Deputy D6-
rouldde is a personage of too much import-
ance to be brought to trial on mere suspicion,
and my denunciation of him was not based
on facts."

"And do you know, my fine aristocrat,"
sneered Merlin viciously, **that it is not wise
either to fool the Committee of Public Safety,
or to denounce without cause one of the repre-
sentatives of the people ? "

"I know," she rejoined quietly, ''that you.
Citizen Merlin, are determined that someone
shall pay for this day's blunder. You dare
not now attack the Citizen- Deputy, and so you
must be content with me."

" Enough of this talk now ; I have no time
to bandy words with aristos," he said roughly.
" Come now, follow the men quietly. Resist-
ance would only aggravate your case."

** I am quite prepared to follow you. May
I speak two words to my friends before I

go?"

No."

ATONEMENT 199

''I may never be able to speak to them
again."

"I have said No, and I mean No. Now then,
forward. March! I have wasted too much
time already."

Juliette was too proud to insist any further.
She had hoped, by one word, to soften Madame
D6roul&le's and Anne Mie's heart towards
her. She did not know whether they believed
that miserable lie which she had been telling to
Merlin ; she only guessed that for the moment
they still thought her the betrayer of Paul
D^roulMe.

But that one word was not to be spoken.
She would have to go forth to her certain trial,
to her probable death, under the awful cloud,
which she herself had brought over her own
life.

She turned quietly, and walked towards the
door, where the two men already stood at
attention.

Then it was that some heaven-born instinct
seemed suddenly to guide Anne Mie. The
crippled girl was face to face with a psycho-
logical problem, which in itself was far beyond
her comprehension, but vaguely she felt that
it was a problem. Something in Juliette's face
had already caused her to bitterly repent her
action towards her, and now, as this beautiful,
refined woman was about to pass from under

aoo I WILL REPAY

the shelter of this roof, to the cruel publicity
and terrible torture of that awful revolutionary
tribunal, Anne Mie's whole heart went out to
her in boundless sympathy.

Before Merlin or the men could prevent her,
she had run up to Juliette, taken her hand,
which hung listless and cold, and kissed it
tenderly.

Juliette seemed to wake as if from a dream.
She looked down at Anne Mie with a glance
of hope, almost of joy, and whispered :

"It was an oath — I swore it to my father
and my dead brother. Tell him."

Anne Mie could only nod; she could not
speak, for her tears were choking her.

"But ril atone— with my life. Tell him,"
whispered Juliette.

"Now then," shouted Merlin, " out of the way,
hunchback, unless you want to come along too."

"Forgive me," said Anne Mie through her
tears.

Then the men pushed her roughly aside.
But at the door Juliette turned to her once
more, and said :

" P^tronelle— take care of her "

And with a firm step she followed the soldiers
out of the room.

Presently the front door was heard to open,
then to shut with a loud bang, and the house in
Rue Ecole de M^decine was left in silence.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE LUXEMBOURG PRISON

Juliette was alone at last — that is to say,
comparatively alone, for there were too many
aristocrats, too many criminals and traitors, in
the prisons of Paris now, to allow of any se-
clusion for those who were about to be tried,
condemned, and guillotined.

The young girl had been marched through
the crowded streets of Paris, followed by a
jeering mob, who readily recognised in the
gentle, high-bred girl the obvious prey, which
the Committee of Public Safety was wont, from
time to time to throw to the hungry hydra-
headed dog of the Revolution.

Lately the squalid spectators of the noisome
spectacle on the Place de la Guillotine had
had few of these very welcome sights : an aris-
tocrat — a real, elegant, refined woman, with
white hands and proud, pale face — mounting
the steps of the same scaffold on which perished
the vilest criminals and most degraded brutes.

Madame Guillotine was, above all, catholic in
her tastes, her gaunt arms, painted blood red,
were open alike to the murderer and the thief,

30I

ao2 I WILL REPAY

the aristocrats of ancient lineage, and the pro-
letariat from the gutter.

But lately the executions had been almost ex-
clusively of a political character. The Giron-
dins were fighting their last upon the bloody
arena of the Revolution. One by one they fell
still fighting, still preaching moderation, still
foretelling disaster and appealing to that people,
whom they had roused from one slavery, in
order to throw it headlong under a tyrannical
yoke more brutish, more absolute than before.

There were twelve prisons in Paris then, and
forty thousand in France, and they were all
full. An entire army went round the country
recruiting prisoners. There was no room for
separate cells, no room for privacy, no cause or
desire for the most elementary sense of delicacy.

Women, men, children — all were herded to-
gether, for one day, perhaps two, and a night
or so, and then death would obliterate the petty
annoyances, the womanly blushes caused by
this sordid propinquity.

Death levelled all, erased everything.

When Marie Antoinette mounted the guillo-
tine she had forgotten that for six weeks she
practically lived day and night in the immediate
companionship of a set of degraded soldiery.

Juliette, as she marched through the streets
between two men of the National Guard, and
followed by Merlin, was hooted and jeered at,

IN THE LUXEMBOURG PRISON 203

insulted, pelted with mud. One woman tried
to push past the soldiers, and to strike her in
the face — sl woman ! not thirty ! — and who was
dragging a pale, squalid little boy by the hand.

" Crache done sur taristo, voyons I " the
woman said to this poor, miserable little scrap
of humanity as the soldiers pushed her roughly
aside. " Spit on the aristocrat ! " And the child
tortured its own small, parched mouth so that,
in obedience to its mother, it might defile and
bespatter a beautiful, innocent girl.

The soldiers laughed, and improved the occa-
sion with another insulting jest Even Merlin
forgot his vexation, delighted at the incident.

But Juliette had seen nothing of it all.

She was walking as in a dream. The mob
did not exist for her ; she heard neither insult
nor vituperation. She did not see the evil,
dirty faces pushed now and then quite close
to her ; she did not feel the rough hands of
the soldiers jostling her through the crowd :
she had gone back to her own world of
romance, where she dwelt alone now with the
man she loved. Instead of the squalid houses
of Paris, with their eternal device of Fraternity
and Equality, there were beautiful trees and
shrubs of laurel and of roses around her, mak-
ing the air fragrant with their soft, intoxicating
perfumes ; sweet voices from the land of dreams
filled the atmosphere with their tender murmur,

204 I WILL REPAY

whilst overhead a cloudless sky illumined this
earthly paradise.

She was happy — supremely, completely
happy. She had saved him from the conse-
quences of her own iniquitous crime, and she
was about to give her life for him, so that his
safety might be more completely assured.

Her love for him he would never know ; now
he knew only her crime, but presently, when
she would be convicted and condemned, con-
fronted with a few scraps of burned paper and
a torn letter-case, then he would know that she
had stood her trial, self-accused, and meant to
die for him.

Therefore the past few moments were now
wholly hers. She had the right to dwell on those
few happy seconds when she listened to the
avowal of his love. It was ethereal, and per-
haps not altogether human, but it was hers.
She had been his divinity, his madonna ; he had
loved in her that, which was her truer, her
better self.

What was base in her was not truly her.
That awful oath, sworn so solemnly, had been
her relentless tyrant ; and her religion — a re-
ligion of superstition and of false ideals — had
blinded her, and dragged her into crime.

She had arrogated to herself that which was
*s alone — "Vengeance!" which is not for

IN THE LUXEMBOURG PRISON 205

That through it all she should have known
love, and learned its tender secrets, was more
than she deserved. That she should have felt
his burning kisses on her hand was heavenly
compensation for all she would have to
suffer.

And so she allowed them to drag her through
the sansculotte mob of Paris, who would have
torn her to pieces then and there, so as not to
delay the pleasure of seeing her die.

They took her to the Luxembourg, once the
palace of the Medici, the home of proud
" Monsieur" in the days of the Great Monarch,
now a loathsome, overfilled prison.

It was then six o'clock in the afternoon, draw-
ing towards the close of this memorable day.
She was handed over to the governor of the
prison, a short, thick-set man in black trousers
and black-shag woollen shirt, and wearing a dirty
red cap, with tricolour rosette on the side of his
unkempt head.

He eyed her up and down as she passed
under the narrow doorway, then murmured one
swift query to Merlin :

" Dangerous ? "

"Yes," replied Merlin laconically.

** You understand," added the governor ; "we
are so crowded. We ought to know if individual
attention is required."

" Certainly," said Merlin, " you will be person-

2o6 I WILL REPAY

ally responsible for this prisoner to the Com-
mittee of Public Safety.**

" Any visitors allowed ? *'

" Certainly not, without the special permission
of the Public Prosecutor."

Juliette heard this brief exchange of words
over her future fate.

No visitor would be allowed to see her.
Well, perhaps that would be best. She would
have been afraid to meet D6roul6de again, afraid
to read in his eyes that story of his dead love,
which alone might have destroyed her present
happiness.

And she wished to see no one. She had a
memory to dwell on — a, short, heavenly memory.
It consisted of a few words, a kiss — ^the last
one — on her hand, and that passionate murmur
which had escaped from his lips when he knelt
at her feet :

"Juliette!"

CHAPTER XIX

COMPLEXITIES

Citizen-Deputy D^rouli^de had been privately
interviewed by the Committee of Public Safety,
and temporarily allowed to go free.

The brief proceedings had been quite private,
the people of Paris were not to know as yet that
their favourite was under a cloud. When he
had answered all the questions put to him,
and Merlin — just returned from his errand at
the Luxembourg Prison — ^had given his version
of the domiciliary visitation in the Citizen-
Deputy's house, the latter was briefly told that
for the moment the Republic had no grievance
against him.

But he knew quite well what that meant.
He would be henceforth under suspicion,
watched incessantly, as a mouse is by the
cat, and pounced upon, the moment time
would be considered propitious for his final
downfall.

The inevitable waning of his popularity
would be noted by keen, jealous eyes; and
D6roul6de, with his sure knowledge of man-
kind and of character, knew well enough that
207

I

208 I WILL REPAY

his popularity was bound to wane sooner or
later, as all such ephemeral things do.

In the meanwhile, during the short respite
which his enemies would leave him, his one
thought and duty would be to get his mother
and Anne Mie safely out of the country.

And also

He thought of her^ and wondered what had
happened. As he walked swiftly across the
narrow footbridge, and reached the other side
of the river, the events of the past few hours
rushed upon his memory with terrible, over-
whelming force.

A bitter ache filled his heart at the remem-
brance of her treachery. The baseness of it
all was so appalling. He tried to think if he
had ever wronged her ; wondered if perhaps she
loved someone else, and wished htm out of her
way.

But, then, he had been so humble, so un-
assuming in his love. He had arrogated
nothing unto himself, asked for nothing, de-
manded nothing in virtue of his protecting
powers over her.

He was torturing himself with this awful
wonderment of why she had treated him thus.

Out of revenge for her brother's death — that
was the only explanation he could find» the
only palliation for her crime.

He knew nothing of her oath to her father^

COMPLEXITIES 209

and, of course, had never heard of the sad history
of this young, sensitive girl placed in one
terrible moment between her dead brother and
her demented father. He only thought of
common, sordid revenge for a sin he had been
practically forced to commit.

And how he had loved her !

Yes, laoed — for that was in the past now.
She had ceased to be a saint or a madonna ;
she had fallen from her pedestal so low that
he could not find the way to descend and
grope after the fragments of his ideal.

At his own door he was met by Anne Mie in
tears.

" She has gone," murmured the young girl.
" i feel as if I had murdered her."

*' Gone } Who ? Where 'i " queried D6rou-
I6de rapidly, an icy feeling of terror gripping
him by the heart-strings.

"Juliette has gone," replied Anne Mie;
*• those awful brutes took her away."

-When?"

** Directly after you left. That man Merlin
found some ashes and scraps of paper in her
room "

"Ashes?"

" Yes ; and a torn letter-case."

"Great God!"

" Shesaidthat they were love letters, which she
had been burning for fear you should see them.''

2IO I WILL REPAY

"She said so? Anne Mie, Anne Mie, are
you quite sure ? "

It was all so horrible, and he did not quite
understand it all ; his brain, which was usually
so keen and so active, refused him service at
this terrible juncture.

** Yes ; I am quite sure," continued Anne
Mie, in the midst of her tears. '' And oh ! that
awful Merlin said some dastardly things. But
she persisted in her story, that she had —
another lover. Oh, Paul, I am sure it is
not true. I hated her because — because —
you loved her so, and I mistrusted her, but
I cannot believe that she was quite as base
as that."

'* No, no, child," he said in a toneless, miser-
able voice; ''she was not so base as that
Tell me more of what she said."

*' She said very little else. But Merlin asked
her whether she had denounced you so as to
get you out of the way. He hinted that —
that "

" That I was her lover too ? "

** Yes," murmured Anne Mie.

She hardly liked to look at him ; the strong
face had become hard and set in its misery.

"And she allowed them to say all this?" he
asked at last.

"Yes. And she followed them without a
murmur, as Merlin said she would have to

COMPLEXITIES 211

answer before the Committee of Public Safety,
for having fooled the representatives of the
people."

*' She'll answer for it with her life," murmured
D6roul6de. " And with mine ! " he added half
audibly.

Anne Mie did not hear him; her pathetic
little soul was filled with a great, an over-
whelming pity for Juliette and for Paul.

"Before they took her away," she said,
placing her thin, delicate-looking hands on his
arm. "I ran to her, and bade her farewell.
The soldiers pushed me roughly aside ; but I
contrived to kiss her — and then she whispered
a few words to me."

•' Yes ? What were they ? "

" ' It was an oath,' she said. ' I swore it to
my father and to my dead brother. Tell him,' "
repeated Anne Mie slowly.

An oath !

Now he understood, and oh ! how he pitied
her. How terribly she must have suffered in her
poor, harassed soul when her noble, upright
nature fought against this hideous treachery.

That she was true and brave in herself, of
that D^rouldde had no doubt. And now this
awful sin upon her conscience, which must be
causing her endless misery.

And, alas ! the atonement would never free
her from the load of self-condemnation.

212 I WILL REPAY

She had elected to pay with her life for her
treason against him and his family. She would
be arraigned before a tribunal which would in-
evitably condemn her. Oh ! the pity of it all !

One moment's passionate emotion, a lifelong
superstition and mistaken sense of duty, and
now this endless misery, this terrible atonement
of a wrong that could never be undone.

And she had never loved him !

That was the true, the only sting which he
knew now ; it rankled more than her sin, more
than her falsehood, more than the shattering of
his ideal.

With a passionate desire for his safety, she
had sacrificed herself in order to atone for the
material evil which she had done.

But there was the wreck of his hopes and of
his dreams !

Never until now, when he had irretrievably
lost her, did D^rouldde realise how great had
been his hopes ; how he had watched day after
day for a look in her eyes, a word from her lips,
to show him that she too — his unattainable
saint — would one day come to earth, and re-
spond to his love.

And now and then, when her beautiful face
lighted up at sight of him, when she smiled a
greeting to him on his return from his work,
when she looked with pride and adniiration on
him from the public bench in the assemblies of

COMPLEXITIES 213

the Convention — then he had begun to hope,
to think, to dream.

And it was all a sham ! A mask to hide the
terrible conflict that was raging within her soul,
nothing more.

She did not love him, of that he felt con-
vinced. Man like, he did not understand to
the full that great and wonderful enigma, which
has puzzled the world since primeval times : a
woman's heart.

The eternal contradictions which go to make
up the complex nature of an emotional woman
were quite incomprehensible to him. Juliette
had betrayed him to serve her own sense of
what was just and right, her revenge and her
oath. Therefore she did not love him.

It was logic, sound common-sense, and, aided
by his own diffidence where women were con-
cerned, it seemed to him irrefutable.

To a man like Paul D6roul6de, a man of
thought, of purpose, and of action, the idea
of being false to the thing loved, of hate
and love being interchangeable, was absolutely
foreign and unbelievable. He had never hated
the thing he loved or loved the thing he hated.
A man's feelings in these respects are so much
less complex, so much less contradictory.

Would a man betray his friend.^ No—
never. He might betray his enemy, the
creature he abhorred, whose downfall would

214 I WILL REPAY

cause him joy. But his friend? The very
idea was repugnant, impossible to an upright
nature.

Juliette's uhimate access of generosity in
trying to save him, when she was at last
brought face to face with the terrible wrong
she had committed, that he put down to one
of those noble impulses of which he knew
her soul to be fully capable, and even then
his own diffidence suggested that she did it
more for the sake of his mother or for Anne
Mie rather than for him.

Therefore what mattered life to him now?
She was lost to him for ever, whether he suc-
ceeded in snatching her from the guillotine or
not. He had but little hope to save her, but
he would not owe his life to her.

Anne Mie, seeing him wrapped in his own
thoughts, had quietly withdrawn. Her own
good sense told her already that Paul D^rou-
lede's first step would be to try and get his
mother out of danger, and out of the country,
while there was yet time.

So, without waiting for instructions, she
began that same evening to pack up her be-
longings and those of Madame D6roul6de.

There was no longer any hatred in her heart
against Juliette. Where Paul D6roul6de had
failed to understand, there Anne Mie had
already made a guess. She firmly believed

COMPLEXITIES 215

that nothing now could save Juliette from
death, and a great feeling of tenderness had
crept into her heart, for the woman whom she
had looked upon as an enemy and a rival.

She too had learnt in those brief days the
great lesson that revenge belongs to God alone.

i

CHAPTER XX

THE CHEVAL BORGNE

It was close upon midnight.

The place had become suffocatingly hot ; the
fumes of rank tobacco, of rancid butter, and
of raw spirits hung like a vapour in mid-air.

The principal room in the "Auberge du
Cheval Borgne" had been used for the past
five years now as the chief meeting-place of
the ultra-sansculotte party of the Republic.

The house itself was squalid and dirty, up
one of those mean streets which, by their
narrow way and shelving buildings, shut out
sun, air, and light from their miserable in-
habitants.

The Cheval Borgne was one of the most
wretched - looking dwellings in this street of
evil repute. The plaster was cracked, the
walls themselves seemed bulging outward,
preparatory to a final collapse. The ceilings
were low, and supported by beams black with
age and dirt.

At one time it had been celebrated for its
vast cellarage, which had contained some rare
old wines. And in the days of the Grand

216

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 217

Monarch young bucks were wont to quit the
gay salons of the ladies, in order to repair to
the Cheval Borgne for a night's carouse.

In those days the vast cellarage was witness
of many a dark encounter, of many a mysteri-
ous death ; could the slimy walls have told
their own tale, it would have been one which
would have put to shame the wildest chronicles
of M. Vidocq.

Now it was no longer so.

Things were done in broad daylight on the
Place de la Revolution : there was no need for
dark, mysterious cellars, in which to accomplish
deeds of murder and of revenge.

Rats and vermin of all sorts worked their
way now in the underground portion of the
building. They ate up each other, and held
their orgies in the cellars, whilst men did the
same sort of thing in the rooms above.

It was a club of Equality and Fraternity.
Any passer-by was at liberty to enter and
take part in the debates, his only qualification
for this temporary membership being an in-
ordinate love for Madame la Guillotine.

It was from the sordid rooms of the Cheval
Borgne that most of the denunciations had gone
forth which led but to the one inevitable end-
ing — death.

They sat in conclave here, some twoscore
or so at first, the rabid patriots of this poor,

i

2i8 I WILL REPAY

downtrodden France. They talked of Liberty
mostly, with many oaths and curses against the
tyrants, and then started a tyranny, an auto-
cracy, ten thousand times more awful than any
wielded by the dissolute Bourbons.

And this was the temple of Liberty, this dark,
damp, evil-smelling brothel, with its narrow,
cracked window-panes, which let in but an
infinitesimal fraction of air, and that of the foul-
est, most unwholesome kind.

The floor was of planks roughly put together ;
now they were worm-eaten, bare, save for a
thick carpet of greasy dust, which deadened the
sound of booted feet. The place only boasted
of a couple of chairs, both of which had to be
propped against the wall lest they should break,
and bring the sitter down upon the floor ; other-
wise a number of empty wine barrels did duty
for seats, and rough deal boards on broken
trestles for tables.

There had once been a paper on the walls,
now it hung down in strips, showing the cracked
plaster beneath. The whole place had a tone
of yellowish-grey grime all over it, save where,
in the centre of the room, on a rough double
post, shaped like the guillotine, a scarlet cap of
Liberty gave a note of lurid colour to the dismal
surroundings.

On the walls here and there the eternal de-
vice, so sublime in conception, so sordid in

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 219

execution, recalled the aims of the so-called
club: "Libert6, Fraternity, Egalit6, sinon la
Mort."

Below the device, in one or two corners of
the room, the wall was further adorned with
rough charcoal sketches, mostly of an obscene
character, the work of one of the members of
the club, who had chosen this means of degrad-
ing his art.

To-night the assembly had been reduced to
less than a score.

Even according to the dictates of these
apostles of Fraternity : ''la guillotine va tau-
Jours'' — the guillotine goes on always. She
had become the most potent factor in the
machinery of government, of this great Revolu-
tion, and she had been daily, almost hotu-ly fed
through the activity of this nameless club, which
held its weird and awesome sittings in the
dank coffee-room of the Cheval Borgne.

The number of the active members had been
reduced. Like the rats in the cellars below,
they had done away with one another, swal-
lowed one another up, torn each other to pieces
in this wild rage for a Utopian fraternity.

Marat, founder of the organisation, had been
murdered by a girl's hand; but Chardon,
Manuel, Osselin had gone the usual way, de-
nounced by their colleagues, Rabaut, Custine,
Bison, who in their turn were sent to the guil-

•

220 I WILL REPAY

lotine by those more powerful, perhaps more
eloquent, than themselves.

It was merely a case of who could shout the
loudest at an assembly of the National Con-
vention.

" La guillotine va toujours I "

After the death of Marat, Merlin became the
most prominent member of the club — he and
Foucquier-Tinville, his bosom friend, Public
Prosecutor, and the most bloodthirsty homicide
of this homicidal age.

Bosom friends both, yet they worked against
oneanother, undermining each other s popularity,
whispering persistently, one against the other :
" He is a traitor ! " It had become just a neck-
to-neck race between them towards the inevit-
able goal — the guillotine.

Foucquier-Tinville is in the ascendant for the
moment. Merlin had been given a task which
he had failed to accomplish. For days now,
weeks even, the debates of this noble assembly
had been chiefly concerned with the downfall of
Citizen- Deputy D6roulMe. His popularity, his
calm security in the midst of this reign of terror
and anarchy, had been a terrible thorn in the
flesh of these rabid Jacobins.

And now the climax had been reached. An
anonymous denunciation had roused the hopes
of these sanguinary patriots. It all sounded
perfectly plausible. To try and save that traitor,

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 221

Marie Antoinette, the widow of Louis Capet,
was just the sort of scheme that would originate
in the brain of Paul D^roul^de.

He had always been at heart an aristocrat,
and the feeling of chivalry for a persecuted
woman was only the outward signs of his secret
adherence to the hated class.

Merlin had been sent to search the Deputy's
house for proofs of the latter's guilt

And Merlin had come back empty-handed.

The arrest of a female aristo — the probable
mistress of D6roul6de, who obviously had de-
nounced him — was but small compensation for
the failure of the more important capture.

As soon as Merlin joined his friends in the
low, ill-lit, evil -smelling room he realised at
once that there was a feeling of hostility
against him.

Tinville, enthroned on one of the few chairs
of which the Cheval Borgne could boast,
was surrounded by a group of surly adherents.

On the rough trestles a number of glasses,
half filled with raw potato-spirit, gave the key-
note to the temper of the assembly.

All those present were dressed in the black-
shag spencer, the seedy black breeches, and
down-at-heel boots, which had become recog-
nised as the distinctive uniform of the sans-
culotte party. The inevitable Phrygian cap,
with its tricolour cockade, appeared on the

222 I WILL REPAY

heads of all those present, in various stages of
dirt and decay.

Tinville had chosen to assume a sarcastic
tone with regard to his whilom bosom friend,
Merlin. Leaning both elbows on the table, he
was picking his teeth with a steel fork, and in
the intervals of this interesting operation, gave
forth his views on the broad principles of
patriotism.

Those who sat round him felt that his star
was in the ascendant and assumed the position
of satellites. Merlin as he entered had grunted
a sullen '* Good-eve," and sat himself down in
a remote comer of the room.

His greeting had been responded to with a
few jeers and a good many dark, threatening
looks. Tinville himself had bowed to him with
mock sarcasm and an unpleasant leer.

One of the patriots, a huge fellow, almost
a giant, with heavy, coarse fists and broad
shoulders that obviously suggested coal-heav-
ing, had, after a few satirical observations,
dragged one of the empty wine barrels to
Merlin's table, and sat down opposite him.

"Take care, Citizen Lenoir," said Tinville,
with an evil laugh, " Citizen- Deputy Merlin
will arrest you instead of Deputy D^roul^de,
whom he has allowed to slip through his fingers."
"Nay; I've no fear," replied Lenoir, with
an oath. " Citizen Merlin is too much of an

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 223

aristo to hurt anyone ; his hands are too clean ;
he does not care to do the dirty work of the
Republic, Isn't that so, Monsieur Merlin?"
added the giant, with a mock bow, and emphas-
ising the appellation which had fallen into com-
plete disuse in these days of equality.

''My patriotism is too well known," said
Merlin roughly, "to fear any attacks from
jealous enemies ; and as for my search in the
Citizen- Deputy's house this afternoon, I was
told to find proofs against him, and I found
none."

Lenoir expectorated on the floor, crossed his
dark hairy arms over the table, and said quietly :

'' Real patriotism, as the true Jacobin under-
stands it, makes the proofs it wants and leaves
nothing to chance."

A chorus of hoarse murmurs of "Vive la
Liberty ! " greeted this harangue of the burly
coal-heaver.

Feeling that he had gained the ear and
approval of the gallery, Lenoir seemed, as it
were, to spread himself out, to arrogate to him-
self the leadership of this band of malcontents,
who, disappointed in their lust for D6rouI6de's
downfall, were ready to exult over that of
Merlin.

"You were a fool. Citizen Merlin," said
Lenoir with slow significance, " not to see that
the woman was playing her own game."

>

224 I WILL REPAY

Merlin had become livid under the grime on
his face. With this ill - kempt sansculotte
giant in front of him, he almost felt as if he
were already arraigned before that awful, merci-
less tribunal, to which he had dragged so many
innocent victims.

Already he felt, as he sat ensconced behind
a table in the far corner of the room, that he
was a prisoner at the bar, answering for his
failure with his life.

His own laws, his own theories now stood
in bloody array against him. Was it not he
who had framed the indictments against General
Custine for having failed to subdue the cities
of the south ? against General Westerman and
Brunet and Beauharnais for having failed and
failed and failed ?

And now it was his turn.

These bloodthirsty jackals had been cheated
of their prey ; they would tear him to pieces in
compensation for their loss.

" How could I tell ? " he murmured roughly,
"the woman had denounced him."

A chorus of angry derision greeted this feeble
attempt at defence.

" By your own law. Citizen- Deputy Merlin,"
commented Tinville sarcastically, "it is a crime
against the Republic to be suspected of treason.
It is evident, however, that it is quite one thing
to frame a law and quite another to obey it"

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 225

*' What could I have done ? "

*' Hark at the innocent ! " rejoined Lenoir,
with a sneer. "What could he have done?
Patriots, friends, brothers, I ask you, what could
he have done ? "

The giant had pushed the wine cask aside,
it rolled away from under him, and in the fulness
of his contempt for Merlin and his impotence,
he stood up before them all, strong in his in-
dictment against treasonable incapacity.

" I ask you," he repeated, with a loud oath,
"what any patriot would do, what you or I
would have done, in the house of a man whom
we all know is a traitor to the Republic ?
Brothers, friends. Citizen- Deputy Merlin found
a heap of burnt paper in a grate, he found a
letter-case which had obviously contained im-
portant documents, and he asks us what he
could do!"

" D^roulMe is too important a man to be tried
without proofs. The whole mob of Paris would
have turned on us for having arraigned him, for
having dared lay hands upon his sacred person."

" Without proofs ? Who said there were no
proofs ? " queried Lenoir.

" I found the burnt papers and torn letter-
case in the woman's room. She owned that
they were love letters, and that she had de-
nounced D6roulWe in order to be rid of him."

"Then let me tell you, Citizen - Deputy

226 I WILL REPAY

Merlin, that a true patriot would have found
those papers in D^roulMe's, and not the woman's
room ; that in the hands of a faithful servant
of the Republic those documents would not all
have been destroyed, for he would have 'found'
one letter addressed to the Widow Capet, which
would have proved conclusively that Citizen-
Deputy D^roulMe was a traitor. That is what
a true patriot would have done — what I would
have done. Pardil since D6roul6de is so im-
portant a personage, since we must all put on
kid gloves when we lay hands upon him, then
let us fight him with other weapons. Are we
aristocrats that we should hesitate to play
the part of jackal to this cunning fox? Citizen-
Deputy Merlin, are you the son of some ci-
devant duke or prince that you dared noi forge
a document which would bring a traitor to his
doom ? Nay ; let me tell you, friends, that the
Republic has no use for curs, and calls him a
traitor who allows one of her enemies to remain
inviolate through his cowardice, his terror of
that intangible and fleeting shadow — the wrath
of a Paris mob."

Thunderous applause greeted this peroration,
which had been delivered with an accompani-
ment of violent gesture and a wealth of obscene
epithets, quite beyond the power of the mere
chronicler to render. Lenoir had a harsh,
strident voice, very high pitched, and he spoke

THE CHEVAL BORGNE 227

with a broad, provincial accent, somewhat diffi-
cuh to locate, but quite unlike the hoarse,
guttural tones of the low-class Parisian. His
enthusiasm made him seem impressive. He
looked, in his ragged, dust-stained clothes, the
very personification of the squalid herd which
had driven culture, art, refinement to the scaf-
fold in order to make way for sordid vice, and
satisfied lusts of hate.

i

CHAPTER XXI

A JACOBIN ORATOR

TiNviLLE alone had remained silent during
Lenoir's impassioned speech. It seemed to be
his turn now to become surly. He sat picking
his teeth, and staring moodily at the enthusiastic
orator, who had so obviously diverted popular
feeling in his own direction. And Tinville
brooked popularity only for himself.

" It is easy to talk now, Citizen — er — Lenoir.
Is that your name ? Well, you are a compara-
tive stranger here. Citizen Lenoir, and have
not yet proved to the Republic that you can
do ought else but talk."

** If somebody did not talk. Citizen Tinville
— is that your name ? " rejoined Lenoir, with a
sneer — " if somebody didn't talk, nothing would
get done. You all sit here, and condemn the
Citizen- Deputy Merlin for being a fool, and I
must say I am with you there, but "

'' Pardi! tell us your *but,* citizen," said
Tinville, for the coal-heaver had paused, as if
trying to collect his thoughts. He had dragged
a wine barrel close to the trestle table, and now
sat astride upon it, facing Tinville and the group
of Jacobins. The flickering tallow candle be-

2a8

A JACOBIN ORATOR 229

hind him threw into bold silhouette his square,
massive head, crowned with its Phrygian cap,
and the great breadth of his shoulders, with the
shabby knitted spencer and low, turned-down
collar.

He had long, thin hands, which were covered
with successive coats of coal dust, and with these
he constantly made weird gestures, as if in the
act of gripping some live thing by the throat.

"We all know that the Deputy D^rouldde
is a traitor, eh ?" he said, addressing the company
in general.

" We do," came with uniform assent from all
those present.

** Then let us put it to the vote. The Ayes
mean death, the Noes freedom."

'' Ay, ay ! " came from every hoarse, parched
throat ; and twelve gaunt hands were lifted up
demanding death for Citizen- Deputy D6roul6de.

"The Ayes have it," said Lenoir quietly.
" Now all we need do is to decide how best to
carry out our purpose."

Merlin, very agreeably surprised to see public
attention thus diverted from his own misdeeds,
had gradually lost his surly attitude. He too
dragged one of the wine barrels, which did duty
for chairs, close to the trestle table, and thus
the members of the nameless Jacobin club
made a compact group, picturesque in its weird
horror^ its uncompromising, flaunting ugliness.

230 I WILL REPAY

" I suppose," said Tinville, who was loth to
give up his position as leader of these extremists
— " I suppose, Citizen Lenoir, that you are in a
position to furnish me with proofs of the Citizen-
Deputy's guilt ? "

'• If I furnish you with such proofs. Citizen
Tinville," retorted the other, '* will you, as Public
Prosecutor, carry the indictment through ? "

"It is my duty to publicly accuse those who
are traitors to the Republic."

"And you. Citizen Merlin," queried Lenoir,
" will you help the Republic to the best of your
ability to be rid of a traitor ? "

" My services to the cause of our great Re-
volution are too well known " began Merlin.

But Lenoir interrupted him with impatience.

'' Pardi! but we'll have no rhetoric now.
Citizen Merlin. We all know that you have
blundered, and that the Republic cares little for
those of her sons who have failed, but whilst
you are still Minister of Justice the people of
France have need of you — for bringing other
traitors to the guillotine."

He spoke this last phrase slowly and signifi-
cantly, lingering on the word "other," as if he
wished its whole awesome meaning to penetrate
well into Merlin's brain.

"What is your advice then. Citizen Lenoir?"

Apparently, by unanimous consent, the coal-
heaver, from some obscure province of France,

A JACOBIN ORATOR 231

had been tacitly acknowledged the leader of the
band. Merlin, still in terror for himself, looked
to him for advice ; even Tinville was ready to
be guided by him. All were at one in their
desire to rid themselves of D6roul6de, who by
his clean living, his aloofness from their own
hideous orgies and deadly hates, seemed a living
reproach to them all ; and they all felt that in
Lenoir there must exist some secret dislike of
the popular Citizen- Deputy, which would give
him a clear insight of how best to bring about
his downfall.

" What is your advice ? " had been Merlin's
query, and everyone there listened eagerly for
what was to come.

'*We are all agreed," commenced Lenoir
quietly, ''that just at this moment it would be
unwise to arraign the Citizen- Deputy without
material proof. The mob of Paris worship him,
and would turn against those who had tried to
dethrone their idol. Now, Citizen Merlin failed
to furnish us with proofs of D^rouldde's guilt.
For the moment he is a free man, and I
imagine a wise one ; within two days he will
have quitted this country, well knowing that, if
h6 stayed long enough to see his popularity
wane, he would also outstay his welcome on
earth altogether."

"Ay! Ay!" said some of the men approvingly,
whilst others laughed hoarsely at the weird jest.

"^

232 I WILL REPAY

** I propose, therefore," continued Lenoir after
a slight pause, **that it shall be Citizen- Deputy
D^roulMe himself who shall furnish to the
people of France proofs of his own treason
against the Republic."

"But how? But how?" rapid, loud and
excited queries greeted this extraordinary
suggestion from the provincial giant.

" By the simplest means imaginable," re-
torted Lenoir with imperturbable calm. ** Isn't
there a good proverb which our grandmothers
used to quote, that if you only give a man
a sufficient length of rope, he is sure to hang
himself? We'll give our aristocratic Citizen-
Deputy plenty of rope. Til warrant, if only our
present Minister of Justice," he added, indicat-
ing Merlin, " will help us in the little comedy
which I propose that we should play."

** Yes ! Yes ! Go on ! " said Merlin excitedly.

**The woman who denounced D6roul6de —
that is our trump card," continued Lenoir,
now waxing enthusiastic with his own scheme
and his own eloquence. " She denounced him.
Ergo, he had been her lover, whom she wished
to be rid of — why? Not, as Citizen Merlin
supposed, because he had discarded her. No,
no ; she had another lover — she has admitted
that. She wished to be rid of D6roul6de to
make way for the other, because he was too
persistent — ergo, because he loved her."

A JACOBIN ORATOR 233

" Well, and what does that prove ? " queried
Tinville with dry sarcasm.

" It proves that D6roulMe, being in love with
the woman, would do much to save her from
the guillotine."

*• Of course."

'' Pardi! let him try, say I," rejoined Lenoir
placidly. "Give him the rope with which to
hang himself."

" What does he mean ? " asked one or two of
the men, whose dull brains had not quite as yet
grasped the full meaningof this monstrous scheme.

" You don't understand what I mean, citizens ;
you think I am mad, or drunk, or a traitor like
D6roul6de ? Eh^ bien ! give me your attention
five minutes longer, and you shall see. Let me
suppose that we have reached the moment
when the woman — what is her name? Oh!
ah ! yes ! Juliette Marny — stands in the Hall of
Justice on her trial before the Committee of
Public Safety. Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, one
of our greatest patriots, reads the indictment
against her: the papers surreptitiously burnt,
the torn, mysterious letter-case found in her
room. If these are presumed, in the indict-
ment, to be treasonable correspondence with
the enemies of the Republic, condemnation
follows at once, then the guillotine. There is
no defence, no respite. The Minister of Justice,
according to Article IX. of the Law framed by

334 I WILL REPAY

himself, allows no advocate to those directly
accused of treason. But," continued the giant»
with slow and calm impressiveness, '' in the
case of ordinary, civil indictments, offences
against public morality or matters pertaining
to the penal code, the Minister of Justice allows
the accused to be publicly defended. Place
Juliette Mamy in the dock on a treasonable
charge, she will be hustled out of the court in
a few minutes, amongst a batch of other traitors,
dragged back to her own prison, and executed
in the early dawn, before D^rouldde has had
time to frame a plan for her safety or defence.
If, then, he tries to move heaven and earth to
rescue the woman he loves, the mob of Paris may,
— who knows .^ — take his part warmly. They
are mad where D^roul^de is concerned ; and we
all know that two devoted lovers have ere now
found favour with the people of France — a
curious remnant of sentimentalism, I suppose —
and the popular Citizen- Deputy knows better
than anyone else on earth, how to play upon
the sentimental feelings of the populace. Now,
in the case of a penal offence, mark where the
difference would be! The woman Juliette
Marny, arraigned for wantonness, for an of-
fence against public morals; the burnt corre-
spondence, admitted to be the letters of a lover
— her hatred for D^roul^de suggesting the false
denunciation. Then the Minister of Justice

A JACOBIN ORATOR 23s

allows an advocate to defend her. She has
none in court ; but think you D^roul^e would
not step forward, and bring all the fervour of his
eloquence to bear in favour of his mistress?
Can you hear his impassioned speech on her
behalf? — I can — the rope, I tell you, citizens,
with which he'll hang himself. Will he admit
in open court that the burnt correspondence
was another lover's letters ? No ! — a, thousand
times no! — and, in the face of his emphatic
denial of the existence of another lover for
Juliette, it will be for our clever Public Pro-
secutor to bring him down to an admission that
the correspondence was his, that it was treason-
able, that she burnt them to save him."

He paused, exhausted at last, mopping his
forehead, then drinking large gulps of brandy
to ease his parched throat.

A veritable chorus of enthusiasm greeted the
end of his long peroration. The Machiavelian
scheme, almost devilish in its cunning, in its
subtle knowledge of human nature and of the
heart-strings of a noble organisation like D6rou-
Idde's, commended itself to these patriots, who
were thirsting for the downfall of a superior
enemy.

Even Tinville lost his attitude of dry sarcasm ;
his thin cheeks were glowing with the lust of
the fight.

Already for the past few months, the trials

I

236 I WILL REPAY

before the Committee of Public Safety had
been dull, monotonous, uninteresting. Charlotte
Corday had been a happy diversion, but other-
wise it had been the case of various deputies,
who had held views that had become too
moderate, or of the generals who had failed
to subdue the towns or provinces of the
south.

But now this trial on the morrow — the
excitement of it all, the trap laid for D6roul6de,
the pleasure of seeing him take the first step
towards his own downfall. Everyone there
was eager and enthusiastic for the fray. Lenoir,
having spoken at such length, had now become
silent, but everyone else talked, and drank
brandy, and hugged his own hate and likely
triumph.

For several hours, far into the night, the
sitting was continued. Each one of the score
of members had some comment to make on
Lenoir's speech, some suggestion to offer.

Lenoir himself was the first to break up this
weird gathering of human jackals, already
exulting over their prey. He bade his com-
panions a quiet good-night, then passed out
into the dark street.

After he had gone there were a few seconds
of complete silence in the dark and sordid room,
where men's ugliest passions were holding
absolute sway. The giant's heavy footsteps

A JACOBIN ORATOR 237

echoed along the ill-paved street, and gradually
died away in the distance.

Then at last Foucquier-Tinville, the Public
Prosecutor, spoke :

" And who is that man ? " he asked, address-
ing the assembly of patriots.

Most of them did not know.

** A provincial from the north," said one 01
the men at last ; ** he has been here several
times before now, and last year he was a
fairly constant attendant. I believe he is
a butcher by trade, and I fancy he comes
from Calais. He was originally brought here
by Citizen Brogard, who is good patriot
enough."

One by one the members of this bond of
Fraternity began to file out of the Cheval
Borgne. They nodded curt good-nights to
each other, and then went to their respective
abodes, which surely could not be dignified
with the name of home.

Tinville remained one of the last ; he and
Merlin seemed suddenly to have buried the
hatchet, which a few hours ago had threatened
to destroy one or the other of these whilom
bosom friends.

Two or three of the most ardent of these
ardent extremists had gathered round the
Public Prosecutor, and Merlin, the framer of
the Law of the Suspect.

I

238 I WILL REPAY

*'What say you, citizens?" said Tinville at
last quietly. ** That man Lenoir, meseems, is
too eloquent — eh ? "

" Dangerous," pronounced Merlin, whilst the
others nodded approval.

*' But his scheme is good," suggested one of
the men.

"And we'll avail ourselves of it," assented
Tinville, ** but afterwards "

He paused, and once more everyone nodded
approval.

"Yes; he is dangerous. Well leave him
in peace to-morrow, but afterwards "

With a gentle hand Tinville caressed the
tall double post, which stood in the centre
of the room, and which was shaped like the
guillotine. An evil look was on his face : the
grin of a death-dealing monster, savage and
envious. The others laughed in grim content.
Merlin grunted a surly approval. He had no
cause to love the provincial coal-heaver who
had raised a raucous voice to threaten him.

Then, nodding to one another, the last of the
patriots, satisfied with this night's work, passed
out into the night.

The watchman was making his rpunds, carry-
ing his lantern, and shouting his customary cry :

" Inhabitants of Paris, sleep quietly. Every-
thing is in order, everything is at peace."

CHAPTER XXII

THE CLOSE OF DAY

DiiROULtoE had spent the whole of this same
night in a wild, impassioned search for Juliette.

Earlier in the day, soon after Anne Mie's
revelations, he had sought out his English friend.
Sir Percy Blakeney, and talked over with him
the final arrangements for the removal of
Madame D6roulede and Anne Mie from Paris.

Though he was a born idealist and a Utopian,
Paul D6roul^e had never for a moment had
any illusions with regard to his own popularity.
He knew that at any time, and for any trivial
cause, the love which the mob bore him would
readily turn to hate. He had seen Mirabeau's
popularity wane. La Fayette's, Desmoulin's —
was it likely that he alone would survive the in-
evitable death of so ephemeral a thing }

Therefore, whilst he was in power, whilst he
was loved and trusted, he had, figuratively and
actually, put his house in order. He had made
full preparations for his own inevitable down-
fall, for that probable flight from Paris of those
who were dependent upon him.

He had, as far back as a year ago, provided
339

240 I WILL REPAY

himself with the necessary passports, and be-
spoken with his English friend certain measures
for the safety of his mother and his crippled
little relative. Now it was merely a question of
putting these measures into execution.

Within two hours of Juliette Marny's arrest,
Madame D6roulede and Anne Mie had quitted
the house in the Rue Ecole de M6decine. They
had but little luggage with them, and were os-
tensibly going into the country to visit a sick
cousin.

The mother of the popular Citizen- Deputy
was free to travel unmolested. The necessary
passports which the safety of the Republic de-
manded were all in perfect order, and Madame
D6roul6de and Anne Mie passed through the
north gate of Paris an hour before sunset, on
that 24th day of Fructidor.

Their large travelling chaise took them some
distance on the North Road, where they were
to meet Lord Hastings and Lord Anthony
Dewhurst, two of The Scarlet Pimpernel's
most trusted lieutenants, who were to escort
them as far as the coast, and thence see them
safely aboard the English yacht.

On that score, therefore, D6roul^de had no
anxiety. His chief duty was to his mother and
to Anne Mie, and that was now fully discharged.

Then there was old P6tronelle.

Ever since the arrest of her young mistress

THE CLOSE OF DAY 241

the poor old soul had been in a state of mind
bordering on frenzy, and no amount of elo-
quence on D6roul6de's part would persuade
her to quit Paris without Juliette.

"If my pet lamb is to die," she said amidst
heart-broken sobs, ''then I have no cause to
live. Let those devils take me along too, if
they want a useless, old woman like me. But
if my darling is allowed to go free, then what
would become of her in this awful city without
me ? She and I have never been separated ;
she wouldn't know where to turn for a home.
And who would cook for her and iron out her
kerchiefs, I'd like to know?"

Reason and common sense were, of course,
powerless in face of this sublime and heroic
childishness. No one had the heart to tell
the old woman that the murderous dog of the
Revolution seldom loosened its fangs, once
they had closed upon a victim.

All D6roul6de could do was to convey
P6tronelle to the old abode, which Juliette had
quitted in order to come to him, and which had
never been formally given up. The worthy
soul, calmed and refreshed, deluded herself into
the idea that she was waiting for the return of
her young mistress, and became quite cheerful
at sight of the familiar room.

D6roul6de had provided her with money and
necessaries. He had but few remaining hopes

Q

242 I WILL REPAY

in his heart, but among them was the firmly
implanted one that P6tronelle was too insigni-
ficant to draw upon herself the terrible attention
of the Committee of Public Safety.

By nightfall he had seen the good woman
safely installed. Then only did he feel
free.

At last he could devote himself to what
seemed to him the one, the only, aim of his life
— to find Juliette.

A dozen prisons in this vast Paris !

Over five thousand prisoners on that night,
awaiting trial, condemnation and death.

D6roulMe at first, strong in his own power,
his personality, had thought that the task
would be comparatively easy.

At the Palais de Justice they would tell him
nothing: the list of new arrests had not yet
been handed in by the commandant of Paris,
Citizen Santerre, who classified and docketed
the miserable herd of aspirants for the next
day's guillotine.

The lists, moreover, would not be completed
until the next day, when the trials of the new
prisoners would already be imminent.

The work of the Committee of Public Safety
was done without much delay.

Then began D6roul6de s weary quest through
those twelve prisons of Paris.

From the Temple to the Conciergcrie, from

THE CLOSE OF DAY 243

Palais Cond6 to the Luxembourg, he spent
hours in the fruitless search.

Everywhere the same shrug of the shoulders,
the same indifferent reply to his eager query :

" Juliette Marny ? Inconnue''

Unknown ! She had not yet been docketed,
not yet classified; she was still one of that
immense flock of cattle, sent in ever-increasing
numbers to the slaughter-house.

Presently, to-morrow, after a trial which
might last ten minutes, after a hasty condem-
nation and quick return to prison, she would be
listed as one of the traitors, whom this great and
beneficent Republic sent daily to the guillotine.

Vainly did D6roul6de try to persuade, to
entreat, to bribe. The sullen guardians of
these twelve charnel-houses knew nothing of
individual prisoners.

But the Citizen- Deputy was allowed to look
for himself. He was conducted to the great
vaulted rooms of the Temple, to the vast ball-
rooms of the Palais Cond6, where herded the
condemned and those still awaiting trial ; he
was allowed to witness there the grim farcical
tragedies, with which the captives beguiled the
few hours which separated them from death.

Mock trials were acted there ; Tinville was
mimicked; then the Place de la Revolution;
Samson the headsman, with a couple of in-
verted chairs to represent the guillotine.

■>

244 I WILL REPAY

Daughters of dukes and princes, descendants
of ancient lineage, acted in these weird and
ghastly comedies. The ladies, with hair bound
high over their heads, would kneel before
the inverted chairs, and place their snow-
white necks beneath this imaginary guillotine.
Speeches were delivered to a mock populace,
whilst a mock Santerre ordered a mock roll of
drums to drown the last flow of eloquence of
the supposed victim.

Oh! the horror of it all — the pity, pathos,
and misery of this ghastly parody, in the very
face of the sublimity of death !

D6roul6de shuddered when first he beheld
the scene, shuddered at the very thought of
finding Juliette amongst these careless, laugh-
ing, thoughtless mimes.

His own, his beautiful Juliette, with her proud
face and majestic, queen-like gestures ; it was
a relief not to see her there.

''Juliette Marny.*^ /«^^»»a^," was the final
word he heard about her.

No one told him that by Deputy Merlin's
strictest orders she had been labelled "dan-
gerous," and placed in^a remote wing of the
Luxembourg Palace, together with a few, who,
like herself, were allowed to see no one, com-
municate with no one.

Then when the couvre-feu had sounded,
when all public places were closed, when the

THE CLOSE OF DAY 245

night watchman had begun his rounds, D6rou-
lede knew that his quest for that night must
remain fruitless.

But he could not rest. In and out the
tortuous streets of Paris he roamed during the
better part of that night. He was now only
awaiting the dawn to publicly demand the right
to stand beside Juliette.

A hopeless misery was in his heart, a long-
ing for a cessation of life ; only one thing kept
his brain active, his mind clear : the hope of
saving Juliette.

The dawn was breaking in the far east
when, wandering along the banks of the river,
he suddenly felt a touch on his arm.

"Come to my hovel," said a pleasant, lazy
voice close to his ear, whilst a kindly hand
seemed to drag him away from the contem-
plation of the dark, silent river. "And a
demmed, beastly place it is too, but at least
we can talk quietly there."

D6roulMe, roused from his meditation, looked
up, to see his friend. Sir Percy Blakeney, stand-
ing close beside him. Tall, d^bonnair, well-
dressed, he seemed by his very presence to
dissipate the morbid atmosphere which was be-
ginning to weigh upon D6rouldde's active mind.

D6roulede followed him readily enough
through, the intricate mazes of old Paris, and
down the Rue des Arts, until Sir Percy stopped

246 I WILL REPAY

outside a small hostelry, the door of which
stood wide open.

''Mine host has nothing to lose from foot-
pads and thieves/' explained the Englishman
as he guided his friend through the narrow
doorway, then up a flight of rickety stairs, to
a small room on the floor above. ''He leaves
all doors open for anyone to walk in, but, la !
the interior of the house looks so uninviting
that no one is tempted to enter."

" I wonder you care to stay here," remarked
D6roul6de, with a momentary smile, as he con-
trasted in his mind the fastidious appearance
of his friend with the dinginess and dirt of
these surroundings.

Sir Percy deposited his large person in the
capacious depths of a creaky chair, stretched
his long limbs out before him, and said quietly :

"I am only staying in this demmed hole
until the moment when I can drag you out
of this murderous city."

D6roulede shook his head.

** You'd best go back to England, then," he
said, *'for Til never leave Paris now."

" Not without Juliette Marny, shall we say ?"
rejoined Sir Percy placidly.

" And I fear me that she has placed herself
beyond our reach," said D6roul6de sombrely.

" You know that she is in the Luxembourg
Prison ? " queried the Englishman suddenly.

THE CLOSE OF DAY 247

^* I guessed it, but could find no proof."

" And that she will be tried to-morrow ? "

"They never keep a prisoner pining too
long," replied D6roul6de bitterly. " I guessed
that too."

" What do you mean to do ? "

"Defend her with the last breath in my
body."

" You love her still, then ? " asked Blakeney,
with a smile.

"Still?" The look, the accent, the agony
of a hopeless passion conveyed in that one
word, told Sir Percy Blakeney all that he
wished to know.

"Yet she betrayed you," he said tentatively.

" And to atone for that sin — an oath, mind
you, friend, sworn to her father — she is ready to
give her life for me."

" And you are prepared to forgive ? "

" To understand is to forgive," rejoined D6-
rouldde simply, "and I love her.*'

" Your madonna ! " said Blakeney, with a
gently ironical smile.

" No ; the woman I love, with all her weak-
nesses, all her sins ; the woman to gain whom
I would give my soul, to save whom I will give
my life."

"And she?"

"She does not love me — would she have
betrayed me else ? "

248 I WILL REPAY

He sat beside the table, and buried his head
in his hands. Not even his dearest friend
, should see how much he had suffered, how
deeply his love had been wounded.
' Sir Percy said nothing, a curious, pleasant
smile lurked round the corners of his mobile
mouth. Through his mind there flitted the
vision of beautiful Marguerite, who had so much
loved yet so deeply wronged him, and, looking
at his friend, he thought that D6roul6de too
would soon learn all the contradictions, which
wage a constant war in the innermost recesses
of a feminine heart.

He made a movement as if he would say
something more, something of grave import,
then seemed to think better of it, and shrugged
his broad shoulders, as if to say :

** Let time and chance take their course
now."

When D6roul^de looked up again Sir Percy
was sitting placidly in the arm-chair, with an
absolutely blank expression on his face.

*' Now that you know how much I love her,
my friend," said D6roul6de as soon as he had
mastered his emotions, *' will you look after her
when they have condemned me, and save her
for my sake ? "

A curious, enigmatic smile suddenly illumined
Sir Percy's earnest countenance.

" Save her ? Do you attribute supernatural

THE CLOSE OF DAY 249

powers to me, then, or to The League of The
Scarlet Pimpernel ? "

"To you, I think," rejoined D6roul6de
seriously.

Once more it seemed as if Sir Percy were
about to reveal something of great importance
to his friend, then once more he checked him-
self. The Scarlet Pimpernel was, above all,
far-seeing and practical, a man of action and not
of impulse. The glowing eyes of his friend,
his nervous, febrile movements, did not suggest
that he was in a fit state to be entrusted with
plans, the success of which hung on a mere
thread.

Therefore Sir Percy only smiled, and said
quietly :

"Well, lildomybest."

CHAPTER XXIII

JUSTICE

The day had been an unusually busy one.

Five and thirty prisoners, arraigned before
the bar of the Committee of Public Safety, had
been tried in the last eight hours — an average
of rather more than four to the hour ; twelve
minutes and a half in which to send a human
creature, full of life and health, to solve the great
enigma which lies hidden beyond the waters of
the Styx.

And Citizen- Deputy Foucquier-Tinville, the
Public Prosecutor, had surpassed himself He
seemed indefatigable.

Each of these five and thirty prisoners had
been arraigned for treason against the Republic,
for conspiracy' with her enemies, and all had to
have irrefutable proofs of their guilt brought
before the Committee of Public Safety. Some-
times a few letters, written to friends abroad,
and seized at the frontier ; a word of condemna-
tion of the measures of the extremists; an
expression of horror at the massacres on the
Place de la Revolution, where the guillotine
creaked incessantly — these were irrefutable

JUSTICE 151

proofs ; or else perhaps a couple of pistols, or
an old family sword seized in the house of a
peaceful citizen, would be brought against a
prisoner, as an irrefutable proof of his warlike
dispositions against the Republic.

Oh ! it was not difficult !

Out of five and thirty indictments, Foucquier-
Tinville had obtained thirty convictions.

No wonder his friends declared that he had
surpassed himself. It had indeed been a
glorious day, and the glow of satisfaction as
much as the heat, caused the Public Prosecutor to
mop his high, bony cranium before he adjourned
for the much-needed respite for refreshment.

The day's work was not yet done.

The "politicals" had been disposed of, and
there had been such an accumulation of them
recently that it was difficult to keep pace with
the arrests.

And in the meanwhile the criminal record of
the great city had not diminished. Because
men butchered one another in the name of
Equality, there were none the fewer among
the Fraternity of thieves and petty pilferers, of
ordinary cut-throats and public wantons.

And these too had to be dealt with by law.
The guillotine was impartial, and fell with equal
velocity on the neck of the proud duke and the
gutter-bom y?/& de jotCy on a descendant of the
Bourbons and the wastrel born in a brothel.

252 I WILL REPAY

The ministerial decrees favoured the prole-
tariat. A crime against the Republic was in-
defensible, but one against the individual was
dealt with, with all the paraphernalia of an
elaborate administration of justice* There were
citizen judges and citizen advocates, and the
rabble, who crowded in to listen to the trials,
acted as honorary jury.

It was all thoroughly well done. The citizen
criminals were given every chance.

The afternoon of this hot August day, one
of the last of glorious Fructidor, had begun to
wane, and the shades of evening to slowly creep
into the long, bare room where this travesty
of justice was being administered.

The Citizen- President sat at the extreme end
of the room, on a rough wooden bench, with
a desk in front of him littered with papers.

Just above him, on the bare, whitewashed
wall, the words : ** La R^publique : une et in-
divisible," and below them the device : " Li-
bert6, Egalit6, Fraternit6 ! '*

To the right and left of the Citizen- President,
four clerks were busy making entries in that
ponderous ledger, that amazing record of the
foulest crimes the world has ever known, the
** Bulletin du Tribunal R6volutionnaire."

At present no one is speaking, and.the grating
of the clerks* quill pens against the paper is the
only sound which disturbs the silence of the hall.

JUSTICE 253

In front of the President, on a bench lower
than his, sits Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, rested
and refreshed, ready to take up his occupation,
for as many hours as his country demands it
of him.

On every desk a tallow candle, smoking and
spluttering, throws a weird light, and more weird
shadows, on the faces of clerks and President,
on blank walls and ominous devices.

In the centre of the room a platform
surrounded by an iron railing is ready for the
accused Just in front of it, from the tall,
raftered ceiling above, there hangs a small
brass lamp, with a green abat-jour.

Each side of the long, whitewashed walls
there are three rows of benches, beautiful old
carved oak pews, snatched from Ndtre Dame
and from the Churches of St Eustache and St
Germain TAuxerrois. Instead of the pious
worshippers of mediaeval times, they now
accommodate the lookers-on of the grim spect-
acle of unfortunates, in their brief halt before
the scaffold.

The front row of these benches is reserved
for those citizen-deputies who desire to be
present at the debates of the Tribunal R6volu-
tionnaire. It is their privilege, almost their
duty, as representatives of the people, to see
that the sittings are properly conducted.

These benches are already well filled. At one

254 I WILL REPAY

end, on the left, Citizen Merlin, Minister of Jus-
tice, sits; next to him Citizen- Minister Lebrun;
also Citizen Robespierre, still in the height of
his ascendancy, and watching the proceedings
with those pale, watery eyes of his and that
curious, disdainful smile, which have earned for
him the nickname of "the sea-green incor-
ruptible."

Other well-known faces are there also, dimly
outlined in the fast-gathering gloom. But
everyone notes Citizen- Deputy D^roulMe, the
idol of the people, as he sits on the extreme
end of a bench on the right, with ai-ms tightly
folded across his chest, the light from the hang-
ing lamp falling straight on his dark head and
proud, straight brows, with the large, restless,
eager eyes.

Anon the Citizen- President rings a hand-bell,
and there is a discordant noise of hoarse
laughter and loud curses, some pushing, jolting,
and swearing, as the general public is admitted
into the hall.

Heaven save us ! What a rabble !

Has humanity really such a scum ?

Women with single ragged kirtle and shift,
through the interstices of which the naked,
grime-covered flesh shows shamelessly: with
bare legs, and feet thrust into heavy sabots,
hair dishevelled, and evil, spirit-sodden faces :
women without a semblance of womanhood,

JUSTICE 255

with shrivelled, barren breasts, and dry, parched
lips, that have never known how to kiss.
Women without emotion save that of hate,
without desire, save for the satisfaction of
hunger and thirst, and lust for revenge against
their sisters less wretched, less unsexed than
themselves. They crowd in, jostling one
another, swarming into the front rows of the
benches, where they can get a better view of
the miserable victims about to be pilloried
before them.

And the men without a semblance of man-
hood. Bent under the heavy care of their own
degradation, dead to pity, to love, to chivalry ;
dead to all save an inordinate longing for the
sight of blood.

And God help them all ! for there were the
children too. Children — save the mark ! — with
pallid, precocious little faces, pinched with the
ravages of starvation, gazing with dim, filmy
eyes on this world of rapacity and hideousness.

Children who have seen death !

Oh, the horror of it ! Not beautiful, peace-
ful death, a slumber or a dream, a loved
parent or fond sister or brother lying all in
white amidst a wealth of flowers, but death
in its most awesome aspect, violent, lurid,
horrible.

And now they stare around them with eager,
greedy eyes, awaiting the amusement of the

256 I WILL REPAY

spectacle; gazing at the President, with his
tall Phrygian cap ; at the clerks wielding their
indefatigable quill pens, writing, writing,
writing; at the flickering lights, throwing
clouds of sooty smoke, up to the dark ceiling
above.

Then suddenly the eyes of one little mite —
a poor, tiny midget not yet in her teens — alight
on Paul D6roul6de s face, on the opposite side
of the room.

" Tiens ! Papa Deroul^de ! " she says, point-
ing an attenuated little finger across at him,
and turning eagerly to those around her, her
eyes dilating in wistful recollection of a happy
afternoon spent in Papa D^roul^e's house,
with fine white bread to eat in plenty, and
great jars of foaming milk.

He rouses himself from his apathy, and his
great earnest eyes lose their look of agonised
misery, as he responds to the greeting of the
little one.

For one moment — oh ! a mere fraction of a
second — the squalid faces, the miserable, starved
expressions of the crowd, soften at sight of him.
There is a faint murmur among the women,
which perhaps God's recording angel registered
as a blessing. Who knows ?

Foucquier-Tinville suppresses a sneer, and
the Citizen - President impatiently rings his
hand-bell again.

JUSTICE 257

** Bring forth the accused!" he commands
in stentorian tones.

There is a movement of satisfaction among
the crowd, and the angel of God is forced to
hide his face again.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE

It is all indelibly placed on record in the
** Bulletin du Tribunal R6volutionnaire," under
date 25th Fructidor, year I. of the Revolution.

Anyone who cares may read, for the Bulletin
is in the Archives of the Biblioth^que Nationale
of Paris.

One by one the accused had been brought
forth, escorted by two men of the National
Guard in ragged, stained uniforms of red, white,
and blue ; they were then conducted to the
small raised platform in the centre of the hall,
and made to listen to the charge brought
against them by Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, the
Public Prosecutor.

They were petty charges mostly : pilfering,
fraud, theft, occasionally arson or manslaughter.
One man, however, was arraigned for murder
with highway robbery, and a woman for the
most ignoble traffic, which evil feminine in-
genuity could invent.

These two were condemned to the guil-
lotine, the others sent to the galleys at Brest
or Toulon — the forger along with the petty

258

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE 259

thief, the housebreaker with the absconding
clerk.

There was no room in the prisons for ordinary
offences against the criminal code ; they were
overfilled already with so-called traitors against
the Republic.

Three women were sent to the penitentiary
at the Salp^triere, and were dragged out of the
court shrilly protesting their innocence, and
followed by obscene jeers from the spectators
on the benches.

Then there was a momentary hush.

Juliette Marny had been brought in.

She was quite calm, and exquisitely beautiful,
dressed in a plain grey bodice and kirtle, with
a black band round her slim waist and a soft
white kerchief folded across her bosom. Be-
neath the tiny, white cap her golden hair
appeared in dainty, curly profusion ; her child-
like, oval face was very white, but otherwise
quite serene.

She seemed absolutely unconscious of her
surroundings, and walked with a firm step up
to the platform, looking neither to the right nor
to the left of her.

Therefore she did not see D6roulMe. A
great, a wonderful radiance seemed to shine
in her large eyes — the radiance of self-sacri-
fice.

She was offering not only her life, but every-

26o I WILL REPAY

thing a woman of refinement holds most dear,
for the safety of the man she loved.

A feeling that was almost physical pain, so
intense was it, overcame D6rouldde, when at
last he heard her name loudly called by the
Public Prosecutor.

All day he had waited for this awful moment,
forgetting his own misery, his own agonised
feeling of an irretrievable loss, in the horrible
thought of what she would endure, what she
would think, when first she realised the terrible
indignity, which was to be put upon her.

Yet for the sake of her, of her chances of
safety and of ultimate freedom, it was un-
doubtedly best that it should be so.

Arraigned for conspiracy against the Republic,
she was liable to secret trial, to be brought up,
J condemned, and executed before he could even

hear of her whereabouts, before he could throw
himself before her judges and take all guilt
upon himself.

Those suspected of treason against the
Republic forfeited, according to Merlin's most
iniquitous Law, their rights of citizenship, in
publicity of trial and in defence.

It all might have been finished before
D^roulede knew anything of it.

The other way was, of course, more terrible.
Brought forth amongst the scum of criminal
Paris, on a charge, the horror of which, he could

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE 261

but dimly hope that she was too innocent to
fully understand, he dared not even think of
what she would suffer.

But undoubtedly it was better so.

The mud thrown at her robes of purity could
never cling to her, and at least her trial would
be public ; he would be there to take all infamy,
all disgrace, all opprobrium on himself.

The strength of his appeal would turn her
judges' wrath from her to him ; and after these
few moments of misery, she would be free to
leave Paris, France, to be happy, and to forget
him and the memory of him.

An overwhelming, all-compelling love filled
his entire soul for the beautiful girl, who had
so wronged, yet so nobly tried to save him.
A longing for her made his very sinews ache ;
she was no longer madonna, and her beauty
thrilled him, with the passionate, almost sensu-
ous desire to give his life for her.

The indictment against Juliette Marny has
become history now.

On that day, the 25th Fructidor, at seven
o'clock in the evening, it was read out by the
Public Prosecutor, and listened to by the
accused — so the Bulletin tells us — with com-
plete calm and apparent indifference. She
stood up in that same pillory where once stood
poor, guilty Charlotte Corday, where presently
would stand proud, guiltless Marie Antoinette.

262 I WILL REPAY

And D6roulede listened to the scurrilous
document, with all the outward calm, his
strength of will could command. He would
have liked to rise from his seat then
and there, at once, and in mad, purely
animal fury have, with a blow of his fist,
quashed the words in Foucquier - Tinville's
lying throat.

But for her sake he was bound to listen,
and, above all, to act quietly, deliberately, ac-
cording to form and procedure, so as in no
way to imperil her cause.

Therefore he listened whilst the Public
Prosecutor spoke.

"Juliette Marny, you are hereby accused of
having, by a false and malicious denunciation,
slandered the person of a representative of the
people ; you caused the Revolutionary Tribunal,
through this same mischievous act, to bring a
charge against this representative of the people,
to institute a domiciliary search in his house,
and to waste valuable time, which otherwise
belonged to the service of the Republic. And
this you did, not from a misguided sense of
duty towards your country, but in wanton and
impure spirit, to be rid of the surveillance of
one who had your welfare at heart, and who
tried to prevent your leading the immoral life
which had become a public scandal, and which
has now brought you before this court of justice

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE 263

to answer to a charge of wantonness, impurity,
defamation of character, and corruption of public
morals. In proof of which I now place before
the court your own admission, that more than
one citizen of the Republic has been led by
you into immoral relationship with yourself; and
further, your own admission, that your accusation
against Citizen - Deputy D6rouldde was false
and mischievous ; and further, and finally, your
immoral and obscene correspondence with some
persons unknown, which you vainly tried to
destroy. In consideration of which, and in the
name of the people of France, whose spokes-
man I am, I demand that you be taken hence
from this Hall of Justice to the Place de la
Revolution, in full view of the citizens of Paris
and its environs, and clad in a soiled white
garment, emblem of the smirch upon your soul,
that there you be publicly whipped by the
hands of Citizen Samson, the public execu-
tioner ; after which, that you be taken to the
prison of the SalpStriere, there to be further
detained at the discretion of the Committee
of Public Safety. And now, Juliette Marny,
you have heard the indictment preferred against
you, have you anything to say, why the sentence
which I have demanded shall not be passed
upon you?"

Jeers, shouts, laughter, and curses greeted
this speech of the Public Prosecutor.

-1

264 I WILL REPAY

All that was most vile and most bestial in
this miserable, misguided people struggling for
Utopia and Liberty, seemed to come to the
surface, whilst listening to the reading of this
most infamous document

The delight of seeing this beautiful, ethereal
woman, almost unearthly in her proud aloof-
ness, smirched with the vilest mud to which
the vituperation of man can contrive to sink,
was a veritable treat to the degraded wretches.

The women yelled hoarse approval ; the
children, not understanding, laughed in mirth-
less glee ; the men, with loud curses, showed
their appreciation of Foucquier - Tinville s
speech.

As for D6rouldde, the mental agony he en-
dured surpassed any torture which the devils,
they say, reserve for the damned. His sinews
cracked in his frantic efforts to control himself;
he dug his finger-nails into his flesh, trying
by physical pain to drown the sufferings of
his mind.

He thought that his reason was tottering,
that he would go mad if he heard another
word of this infamy. The hooting and yelling
of that filthy mob sounded like the cries of
lost souls, shrieking from hell. All his pity
for them was gone, his love for humanity, his
devotion to the suffering poor.

A great, an immense hatred for this ghastly

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE 265

Revolution and the people it professed to free
filled his whole being, together with a mad,
hideous desire to see them suffer, starve, die
a miserable, loathsome death. The passion of
hate, that now overwhelmed his soul, was at
least as ugly as theirs. He was, for one
brief moment, now at one with them in their
inordinate lust for revenge.

Only Juliette throughout all this remained
calm, silent, impassive.

She had heard the indictment, heard the
loathsome sentence, for her white cheeks had
gradually become ashy pale, but never for a
moment did she depart from her attitude of
proud aloofness.

She never once turned her head towards the
mob who insulted her. She waited in complete
passiveness until the yelling and shouting had
subsided, motionless save for her finger-tips,
which beat an impatient tattoo upon the railing
in front of her.

The Bulletin says that she took out her
handkerchief and wiped her face with it. £//e
s'essuya le front qui fut perU de sueur. The
heat had become oppressive.

The atmosphere was overcharged with the
dank, penetrating odour of steaming, dirty
clothes. The room, though vast, was close and
suffocating, the tallow candles flickering in the
humid, hot air threw the faces of the President

266 I WILL REPAY

and clerks into bold relief, with curious carica-
ture effects of light and shade.

The petrol lamp above the head of the ac-
cused had flared up, and begun to smoke, caus-
ing the chimney to crack with a sharp report.
This diversion effected a momentary silence
among the crowd, and the Public Prosecutor
was able to repeat his query :

** Juliette Mamy, have you anything to say
in reply to the charge brought against you, and
why the sentence which I have demanded
should not be passed against you?"

The sooty smoke from the lamp came down
in small, black, greasy particles ; Juliette with
her slender finger-tips flicked one of these
quietly off her sleeve, then she replied :

** No ; I have nothing to say."

** Have you instructed an advocate to defend
you, according to your rights of citizenship,
which the Law allows?" added the Public
Prosecutor solemnly.

Juliette would have replied at once ; her
mouth had already framed the No with
which she meant to answer.

But now at last had come D6roulMe's hour.
For this he had been silent, had suffered and
had held his peace, whilst twice twenty-four
hours had dragged their weary lengths along,
since the arrest of the woman he loved.

In a moment he was on his feet before

THE TRIAL OF JULIETTE 267

them all, accustomed to speak, to dominate,
to command.

*' Citizeness Juliette Marny has entrusted me
with her defence," he said, even before the
No had escaped Juliette's white lips, "and I
am here to refute the charges brought against
her, and to demand in the name of the people
of France full acquittal and justice for her."

CHAPTER XXV

THE DEFENCE

Intense excitement, which found vent in loud
applause, greeted D6roul6de's statement.

** (7a ira! ga ira! vas-y Ddroulkdel'' came
from the crowded benches round; and men,
women, and children, wearied with the monotony
of the past proceedings, settled themselves down
for a quarter of an hour's keen enjoyment.

If D6roul6de had anything to do with it, the
trial was sure to end in excitement. And the
people were always ready to listen to their
special favourite.

The citizen-deputies, drowsy after the long,
oppressive day, seemed to rouse themselves to
renewed interest. Lebrun, like a big, shaggy
dog, shook himself free from creeping somno-
lence. Robespierre smiled between his thin
lips, and looked across at Merlin to see how
the situation affected him. The enmity be-
tween the Minister of Justice and Citizen
D^roulMe was well known, and everyone noted,
with added zest, that the former wore a keen
look of anticipated triumph.

High up, on one of the topmost benches, sat

268

THE DEFENCE 269

Citizen Lenoir, the stage-manager of this pal-
pitating drama. He looked down, with obvious
satisfaction, at the scene which he himself had
suggested last night to the members of the
Jacobin Club. Merlin's sharp eyes had tried
to pierce the gloom, which wrapped the crowd
of spectators, searching vainly to distinguish the
broad figure and massive head of the provincial
giant.

The light from the petrol lamp shone full on
D6roulMe's earnest, dark countenance as he
looked Juliette's infamous accuser full in the
face, but the tallow candles, flickering weirdly
on the President's desk, threw Tinville's short,
spare figure and large, unkempt head into
curious grotesque silhouette.

Juliette apparently had lost none of her calm,
and there was no one there sufficiently interested
in her personality to note the tinge of delicate
colour which, at the first word of D6roul6de,
had slowly mounted to her pale cheeks.

Tinville waited until the wave of excitement
had broken upon the shoals of expectancy.

Then he resumed :

**Then, Citizen D6roul6de, what hsivej^au to
say, why sentence should not be passed upon
the accused ? "

" I have to say that the accused is innocent
of every charge brought against her in your
indictment," replied D6roul6de firmly.

270 I WILL REPAY

** And how do you substantiate this statement,
Citizen-Deputy?" queried Tinville, speaking
with mock unctuousness.

" Very simply, Citizen Tinville. The corre-
spondence to which you refer did not belong to
the accused, but to me. It consisted of certain
communications, which I desired to hold with
Marie Antoinette, now a prisoner in the Con-
ciergerie, during my stay there as lieutenant-
governor. The Citizeness Juliette Marny, by
denouncing me, was serving the Republic, for
my communications with Marie Antoinette had
reference to my own hopes of seeing her quit
this country and take refuge in her own native
land."

Gradually, as D6roul6de spoke, a murmur, like
the distant roar of a monstrous breaker, rose
among the crowd on the upper benches. As
he continued quietly and firmly, so it grew in
volume and in intensity, until his last words
were drowned in one mighty, thunderous shout
of horror and execration.

D6roul6de, the friend and idol of the people,
the privileged darling of this unruly population,
the father of the children, the friend of the
women, the sympathiser in all troubles. Papa
D6roul6de as the little ones called him — he
a traitor, self-accused, plotting and planning for
an ex-tyrant, a harlot who had called herself a
queen, for Marie Antoinette the Austrian, who

THE DEFENCE 271

had desired and worked for the overthrow of
France ! He, D6roul6de, a traitor !

In one moment, as he spoke, the love which
in their crude hearts they bore him, that animal,
primitive love, was turned to sudden, equally
irresponsible hate. He had deceived them,
laughed at them, tried to bribe them by feed-
ing their little ones !

Bah ! the bread of the traitor ! It might have
choked the children.

Surprise at first had taken their breath away.
Already they had marvelled why he should
stand up to defend a wanton. And now, prob-
ably feeling that he was on the point of being
found out, he thought it better to make a clean
breast of his own treason, trusting in his popu-
larity, in his power over the people.

Bah!!!

Not one extenuating circumstance did they
find in their hardened hearts for him.

He had been their idol, enshrined in their
squalid, degraded minds, and now he had fallen,
shattered beyond recall, and they hated and
loathed him as much as they had loved him
before.

And this his enemies noted, and smiled with
complete satisfaction.

Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. Tinville
nodded his shaggy head, in token of intense
delight.

272 I WILL REPAY

What that provincial coal-heaver had foretold
had indeed come to pass.

The populace, that most fickle of all fickle
things in this world, had turned all at once
against its favourite. This Lenoir had predicted,
and the transition had been even more rapid
than he had anticipated.

D6roul6de had been given a length of rope,
and, figuratively speaking, had already hanged
himself.

The reality was a mere matter of a few hours
now. At dawn to-morrow the guillotine ; and
the mob of Paris, who yesterday would have torn
his detractors limb from limb, would on the
morrow be dragging him, with hoots and yells
and howls of execration, to the scaffold.

The most shadowy of all footholds, that of
the whim of a populace, had already given way
under him. His enemies knew it, and were
exulting in their triumph. He knew it himself,
and stood up, calmly defiant, ready for any event,
if only he succeeded in snatching her beautiful
head from the ready embrace of the guillotine.

Juliette herself had remained as if entranced.
The colour had again fled from her cheeks,
leaving them paler, more ashen than before.
It seemed as if in this moment she suffered
more than human creature could bear, more
than any torture she had undergone hitherto.

He would not owe his life to her.

THE DEFENCE 273

That was the one overwhelming thought in
her, which annihilated all others. His love for
her was dead, and he would not accept the great
sacrifice at her hands.

Thus these two in the supreme moment of
their life saw each other, yet did not understand.
A word, a touch would have given them both
the key to one another's heart, and it now
seemed as if death would part them for ever,
whilst that great enigma remained unsolved.

The Public Prosecutor had been waiting
until the noise had somewhat subsided, and his
voice could be heard above the din, then he
said, with a smile of ill-concealed satisfaction :

"And is the court, then, to understand.
Citizen- Deputy D^roul^de, that it was you who
tried to burn the treasonable correspondence
and to destroy the case which contained it ? "

" The treasonable correspondence was mine,
and it was I who destroyed it."

"But the accused admitted before Citizen
Merlin that she herself was trying to burn cer-
tain love letters, that would have brought to
light her illicit relationships with another man
than yourself," argued Tinville suavely. The
rope was perhaps not quite long enough ; D6-
roul^de must have all that could be given him,
ere this memorable sitting was adjourned.

D6roulMe, however, instead of directing his
reply straight to his enemy, now turned towards

274 I WILL REPAY

the dense crowd of spectators, on the benches
opposite to him.

" Citizens, friends, brothers," he said warmly,
**the accused is only a girl, young, innocent,
knowing nothing of peril or of sin. You all
have mothers, sisters, daughters — have you not
watched those dear to you in the many moods
of which a feminine heart is capable ; have you
not seen them affectionate, tender, and impul-
sive ? Would you love them so dearly but for
the fickleness of their moods ? Have you not wor-
shipped them in your hearts, for those sublime
impulses which put all man's plans and calcula-
tions to shame? Look on the accused, citizens.
She loves the Republic, the people of France,
and feared that I, an unworthy representative
of her sons, was hatching treason against our
great mother. That was her first wayward
impulse — to stop me before I committed the
awful crime, to punish me, or perhaps only to
warn me. Does a young girl calculate, citizens ?
She acts as her heart dictates ; her reason but
awakes from slumber later on, when the act is
done. Then comes repentance sometimes : an-
other impulse of tenderness which we all revere.
Would you extract vinegar from rose leaves ?
Just'as readily could you find reason in a young
girl's head. Is that a crime ? She wished to
thwart me in my treason ; then, seeing me in peril,
the sincere friendship she had for me gained

THE DEFENCE 275

the upper hand once more. She loved my
mother, who might be losing a son ; she loved
my crippled foster-sister ; for their sakes, not for
mine — 2l traitor's — did she yield to another, a
heavenly impulse, that of saving me from the
consequences of my own folly. Was that a
crime, citizens ? When you are ailing, do not
your mothers, sisters, wives tend you ? when you
are seriously ill, would they not give their heart's
blood to save you ? and when, in the dark hours
of your lives, some deed which you would not
openly avow before the world overweights your
soul with its burden of remorse, is it not again
your womenkind who come to you, with tender
words and soothing voices, trying to ease your
aching conscience, bringing solace, comfort, and
peace ? And so it was with the accused, citizens.
She had seen my crime, and longed to punish it ;
she saw those who had befriended her in sorrow,
and she tried to ease their pain by taking my
guilt upon her shoulders. She has suffered for
the noble lie, which she has told on my behalf,
as no woman has ever been made to suffer
before. She has stood, white and innocent as
your new-born children, in the pillory of infamy.
She was ready to endure death, and what was
ten thousand times worse than death, because
of her own warm-hearted affection. But you,
citizens of France, who, above all, are noble,
true, and chivalrous, you will not allow the

276 I WILL REPAY

sweet impulses of young and tender woman-
hood to be punished with the ban of felony.
To you, women of France, I appeal in the name
of your childhood, your girlhood, your mother-
hood ; take her to your hearts, she is worthy of
it, worthier now for having blushed before you,
worthier than any heroine in the great roll of
honour of France."

His magnetic voice went echoing along the
rafters of the great, sordid Hall of Justice, filling
it with a glory it had never known before. His
enthusiasm thrilled his hearers, his appeal to
their honour and chivalry roused all the finer
feelings within them. Still hating him for his
treason, his magical appeal had turned their
hearts towards her.

They had listened to him without interruption,
and now at last, when he paused, it was very
evident, by muttered exclamations and glances
cast at Juliette, that popular feeling, which up
to the present had practically ignored her, now
went out towards her personality with over-
whelming sympathy.

Obviously at the present moment, if Juliette's
fate had been put to the plebiscite, she would
have been unanimously acquitted.

Merlin, as D6roul6de spoke, had once or
twice tried to read his friend Foucquier-Tin-
ville's enigmatical expression, but the Public
Prosecutor, with his face in deep shadow, had

THE DEFENCE ^^^

not moved a muscle during the Citizen- Deputy's
noble peroration. He sat at his desk, chin
resting on hand, staring before him with an
expression of indifference, almost of boredom.

Now, when D6roul6de finished speaking, and
the outburst of human enthusiasm had some-
what subsided, he rose slowly to his feet, and
said quietly :

" So you maintain, Citizen- Deputy, that the
accused is a chaste and innocent girl, unjustly
charged with immorality ? "

** I do," protested D6roulMe loudly.

** And will you tell the court why you are so
ready to publicly accuse yourself of treason
against the Republic, knowing full well all the
consequences of your action ? "

*' Would any Frenchman care to save his own
life at the expense of a woman's honour ? " re-
torted D6roul6de proudly.

A murmur of approval greeted these words,
and Tinville remarked unctuously :

"Quite so, quite so. We esteem your
chivalry. Citizen- Deputy. The same spirit, no
doubt, actuates you to maintain that the accused
knew nothing of the papers which you say you
destroyed ? "

" She knew nothing of them. I destroyed
them ; I did not know that they had been found ;
on my return to my house I discovered that the
Citizeness Juliette Marny had falsely accused

I

278

I WILL REPAY

herself of having destroyed some j
reptitiously."

** She said they were love letters."

" It is false."

" You declare her to be pure and i

" Before the whole world."

"Yet you were in the habit of f
the bedroom of this pure and chast
dwelt under your roof," said Tinville
and deliberate sarcasm.

" It is false."

" If it be false, Citizen D6roul6de,"
the other with the same unctuous suai
how comes it that the correspondc
you admit was treasonable, and the
sumably secret — ^how comes it that it
still smouldering, in the chaste youn
bedroom, and the torn letter -case
among her dresses in a valise.^"

*' It is false."

**The Minister of Justice, Citiz
Merlin, will answer for the truth of t

*' It is the truth," said Juliette quic

Her voice rang out clear, almost ti
in the midst of the breathless pause,
the previous swift questions and louc

D^roulede now was silent.

This one simple fact he did not knc
Mie, in telling him the events in
with the arrest of Juliette, had omit

THE DEFENCE 279

him the one little detail, that the burnt letters
were found in the young girl's bedroom.

Up to the moment when the Public Prosecutor
confronted him with it, he had been under the
impression that she had destroyed the papers
and the letter-case in the study, where she had
remained alone after Merlin and his men had
left the room. She could easily have burnt them
there, as a tiny spirit lamp was always kept
alight on a side table for the use of smokers.

This little fact now altered the entire course
of events. Tinville had but to frame an in-
dignant ejaculation :

'* Citizens of France, see how you are being
befooled and hoodwinked ! "

Then he turned once more to D6roul6de.

"Citizen D6roul6de " he began.

But in the tumult that ensued he could no
longer hear his own voice. The pent-up rage
of the entire mob of Paris seemed to find vent
for itself in the howls with which the crowd
now tried to drown the rest of the proceedings.

As their brutish hearts had been suddenly
melted on behalf of Juliette, in response to
D6roul^de's passionate appeal, so now they
swiftly changed their sympathetic attitude to
one of horror and execration.

Two people had fooled and deceived them.
One of these they had reverenced and trusted,
as much as their degraded minds were capable

28o I WILL REPAY

of reverencing anything, therefore his sin
seemed doubly damnable.

He and that pale-faced aristocrat had for
weeks now, months, or years perhaps, conspired
against the Republic, against the Revolution,
which had been made by a people thirsting for
liberty. During these months and years he
had talked to them, and they had listened ; he
had poured forth treasures of eloquence, cajoled
them, as he had done just now.

The noise and hubbub were growing apace.
If Tinville and Merlin had desired to infuriate
the mob, they had more than succeeded. All
that was most bestial, most savage in this awful
Parisian populace rose to the surface now in
one wild, mad desire for revenge.

The crowd rushed down from the benches,
over one another's heads, over children's fallen
bodies ; they rushed down because they wanted
to get at him, their whilom favourite, and at
his pale-faced mistress, and tear them to pieces,
hit them, scratch out their eyes. They snarled
like so many wild beasts, the women shrieked,
the children cried, and the men of the National
Guard, hurrying forward, had much ado to keep
back this flood-tide of hate.

Had any of them broken loose, from behind
the barrier of bayonets hastily raised against
them, it would have fared ill with D6rouldde
and Juliette.

THE DEFENCE 281

The President wildly rang his bell, and his
voice, quivering with excitement, was heard
once or twice above the din.

*' Clear the court ! Clear the court ! "

But the people refused to be cleared out of
court.

'' A la lanteme Us traitres I Mort d Dirou-
lide. A la lanteme I taristo I *'

And in the thickest of the crowd, the broad
shoulders and massive head of Citizen Lenoir
towered above the others.

At first it seemed as if he had been urging
on the mob in its fury. His strident voice,
with its broad provincial accent, was heard
distinctly shouting loud vituperations against
the accused.

Then at a given moment, when the tumult
was at its height, when the National Guard felt
their bayonets giving way before this onrush-
ing tide of human jackals, Lenoir changed his
tactics.

** TiensI cest bite I'' he shouted loudly, "we
shall do far better with the traitors when we
get them outside. What say you, citizens?
Shall we leave the judges here to conclude the
farce, and arrange for its sequel ourselves out-
side the * Tigre Jaune ' 1 "

At first but little heed was paid to his sug-
gestion, and he repeated it once or twice, adding
some interesting details :

282 I WILL REPAY

** One is freer in the streets, where these apes
of the National Guard can't get between the
people of France and their just revenge. Ma
foil'' he added, squaring his broad shoulders,
and pushing his way through the crowd towards
the door, "I for one am going to see where
hangs the most suitable lanteme''

Like a flock of sheep the crowd now followed
him.

** The nearest lanteme ! " they shouted. "In
the streets — in the streets! A la lanteme I
The traitors!"

And with many a jeer, many a loathsome
curse, and still more loathsome jests, some of
the crowd began to file out. A few only
remained to see the conclusion of the farce.

CHAPTER XXVI

SENTENCE OF DEATH

The "Bulletin du Tribunal R6volutionnaire "
tells us that both the accused had remained
perfectly calm during the turmoil which raged
within the bare walls of the Hall of Justice.

Citizen- Deputy D6roul6de, however, so the
chroniclers aver, though outwardly impassive,
was evidently deeply moved. He had very
expressive eyes, clear mirrors of the fine, up-
right soul within, and in them there was a look
of intense emotion as he watched the crowd,
which he had so often dominated and controlled,
now turning in hatred against him.

He seemed actually to be seeing with a
spiritual vision, his own popularity wane and die.

But when the thick of the crowd had pushed
and jostled itself out of the hall, that transient
emotion seemed to disappear, and he allowed
himself quietly to be led from the front bench,
where he had sat as a privileged member, of
the National Convention, to a place immedi-
ately behind the dock, and between two men
of the National Guard.

From that moment he was a prisoner, accused
283

284 I WILL REPAY

of treason against the Republic, and obviously
his mock trial would be hurried through by his
triumphant enemies, whilst the temper of the
people was at boiling point against him.

Complete silence had succeeded to the raging
tumult of the past few moments. Nothing now
could be heard in the vast room, save Foucquier-
Tinville*s hastily whispered instructions to the
clerk nearest to him, and the scratch of the
latter's quill pen against the paper.

The President was, with equal rapidity, affix-
ing his signature to various papers handed up to
him by the other clerks. The few remaining
spectators, the deputies, and those among the
crowd who had elected to see the close of the
debate, were silent and expectant.

Merlin was mopping his forehead as if in
intense fatigue after a hard struggle ; Robes-
pierre was coolly taking snuff.

From where D6roulede stood, he could see
Juliette's graceful figure silhouetted against the
light of the petrol lamp. His heart was torn
between intense misery at having failed to
save her and a curious, exultant joy at thought
of dying beside her.

He knew the procedure of this revolutionary
tribunal well — knew that within the next few
moments he too would be condemned, that
they would both be hustled out of the crowd
and dragged through the streets of Paris, and

SENTENCE OF DEATH 285

finally thrown into the same prison, to herd
with those who, like themselves, had but a few
hours to live.

And then to-morrow at dawn, death for
them both under the guillotine. Death in
public, with all its attendant horrors : the packed
tumbril ; the priest, in civil clothes, appointed
by this godless government, muttering con-
ventional prayers and valueless exhortations.

And in his heart there was nothing but love
for her — love and an intense pity — for the pun-
ishment she was suffering was far greater than
her crime. He hoped that in her heart remorse
would not be too bitter ; and he looked forward
with joy to the next few hours, which he would
pass near her, during which he could perhaps
still console and soothe her.

She was but the victim of ^n ideal, of Fate
stronger than her own will. She stood, an
innocent martyr to the great mistake of her life.

But the minutes sped on. Foucquier-Tinville
had evidently completed his new indictments.

The one against Juliette Marny was read
out first. She was now accused of conspiring
with Paul D6roul6de against the safety of the
Republic, by having cognisance of a treasonable
correspondence carried on with the prisoner,
Marie Antoinette ; by virtue of which accusa-
tion the Public Prosecutor asked her if she
had anything to say.

286 I WILL REPAY

*' No," she replied loudly and firmly. " I
pray to God for the safety and deliverance of
our Queen, Marie Antoinette, and for the over-
throw of this Reign of Terror and Anarchy."

These words, registered in the ** Bulletin du
Tribunal R^volutionnaire " were taken as final
and irrefutable proofs of her guilt, and she was
then summarily condemned to death.

She was then made to step down from the
dock and D^roulMe to stand in her place.

He listened quietly to the long indictment
which Foucquier-Tinville had already framed
against him the evening before, in readiness
for this contingency. The words "treason
against the Republic" occurred conspicuously
and repeatedly. The document itself is at one
with the thousands of written charges, framed
by that odious Foucquier-Tinville during these
periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves
are the most scathing indictments against the
odious travesty of Justice, perpetrated with his
help.

Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, D6rou-
\hde was not even asked if he had anything to
say ; sentence of death was passed on him,
with the rapidity and callousness peculiar to
these proceedings.

After which Paul D6roulede and Juliette
Marny were led forth, under strong escort,
into the street.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FRUCTIDOR RIOTS

Many accounts, more or less authentic, have
been published of the events known to history
as the " Fructidor Riots."

But this is how it all happened : at anyrate
it is the version related some few days later in
England to the Prince of Wales by no less a
personage than Sir Percy Blakeney ; and who
indeed should know better than The Scarlet
Pimpernel himself?

D6roul^e and Juliette Marny were the last of
the batch of prisoners who were tried on that
memorable day of Fructidor.

There had been such a number of these, that
all the covered carts in use for the conveyance
of prisoners to and from the Hall of Justice had
already been despatched with their weighty
human load ; thus it was that only a rough
wooden cart, hoodless and rickety,^ was avail-
able, and into this D6roulede and Juliette were
ordered to mount.

It was now close on nine o'clock in the
evening. The streets of Paris, sparsely illumin-
ated here and there with solitary oil lamps
287

288 I WILL REPAY

swung across from house to house on wires,
presented a miserable and squalid appearance.
A thin, misty rain had begun to fall, transform-
ing the ill-paved roads into morasses of sticky
mud.

The Hall of Justice was surrounded by a
howling and shrieking mob, who, having im-
bibed all the stores of brandy in the neighbour-
ing drinking bars, was now waiting outside in
the dripping rain for the express purpose of
venting its pent-up, spirit-sodden lust of rage
against the man whom it had once worshipped,
but whom now it hated. Men, women, and
even children swarmed round the principal
entrances of the Palais de Justice, along the
bank of the river as far as the Pont au Change,
and up towards the Luxembourg Palace, now
transformed into the prison, to which the con-
demned would no doubt be conveyed

Along the river-bank, and immediately facing
the Palais de Justice, a row of gallows-shaped
posts, at intervals of a hundred yards or more,
held each a smoky petrol lamp, at a height of
some eight feet from the ground.

One of these lamps had been knocked down,
and from the post itself there now hung
ominously a length of rope, with a noose at the
end.

Around this improvised gallows a group
of women sat, or rather squatted, in the mud ;

THE FRUCTIDOR RIOTS 289

their ragged shifts and kirtles, soaked through
with the drizzling rain, hung dankly on their
emaciated forms ; their hair, in some cases grey,
and in others dark or straw-coloured, clung
matted round their wet faces, on which the
dirt and the damp had drawn weird and gro-
tesque lines.

The men were restless and noisy, rushing
aimlessly hither and thither, from the corner of
the bridge, up the Rue du Palais, fearful lest
their prey be conjured away ere their ven-
geance was satisfied.

Oh, how they hated their former idol now !
Citizen Lenoir, with his broad shoulders and
powerful, grime-covered head, towered above
the throng ; his strident voice, with its raucous,
provincial accent, could be distinctly heard above
the din, egging on the men, shouting to the
women, stirring up hatred against the prisoners,
wherever it showed signs of abating in in-
tensity.

The coal-heaver, hailing from some distant
province, seemed to have set himself the grim
task of provoking the infuriated populace to
some terrible deed of revenge against D6rou-
IMe and Juliette.

The darkness of the street, the fast-falling
mist which obscured the light from the meagre
oil lamps, seemed to add a certain weirdness to
this moving, seething multitude. No one

290 I WILL REPAY

could see his neighbour. In the blackness of
the night the muttering or yelling figures
moved about like some spectral creatures from
hellish regions — the Akous of Brittany who
call to those about to die ; whilst the women
squatting in the oozing mud, beneath that
swinging piece of rope, looked like a group of
ghostly witches, waiting for the hour of their
Sabbath.

As D6roulede emerged into the open, the
light from a swinging lantern in the doorway
fell full upon his face. The foremost of the
crowd recognised him ; a howl of execration
went up to the cloud-covered sky, and a
hundred hands were thrust out in deadly
menace against him.

It seemed as if they wished to tear him to
pieces.

'' A la lanteme I A la lanteme I le trattre I "

He shivered slightly, as if with the sudden
blast of cold, humid air, but he stepped quietly
into the cart, closely followed by Juliette.

The strong escort of the National Guard,
with Commandant Santerre and his two drum-
mers, had much ado to keep back the mob.
It was not the policy of the revolutionary
government to allow excesses of summary
justice in the streets : the public execution of
traitors on the Place de la Revolution, the
processions in the tumbrils, were thought t^o be

THE FRUCTIDOR RIOTS 291

wholesome examples for other would-be traitors
to mark and digest.

Citizen Santerre, military commandant of
Paris, had ordered his men to use their bay-
onets ruthlessly, and, to further overawe the
populace, he ordered a prolonged roll of drums,
lest D6roulMe took it into his head to speak to
the crowd.

But D6roulede had no such intention : he
seemed chiefly concerned in shielding Juliette
from the cold ; she had been made to sit in the
cart beside him, and he had taken off his coat,
and was wrapping it round her against the
penetrating rain.

The eye-witnesses of these memorable events
have declared that, at a given moment, he looked
up suddenly with a curious, eager expression
in his eyes, and then raised himself in the cart
and seemed to be trying to penetrate the gloom
round him, as if in search of a face, or perhaps
a voice.

''A la lanteme I A la lantemet'* was the
continual hoarse cry of the mob.

Up to now, flanked in their rear by the outer
walls of the Palais de Justice, the soldiers had
found it a fairly easy task to keep the crowd at
bay. But there came a time when tKe cart
was bound to move out into the open, in order
to convey the prisoners along, by the Rue du
Palais, up to the Luxembourg Prison.

29^ I WILL REPAY

This task, however, had become more and
more difficult every moment. The people of
Paris, who for two years had been told by its
tyrants that it was supreme lord of the universe,
was mad with rage at seeing its desires frus-
trated by a few soldiers.

The drums had been greeted by terrific yells,
which effectually drowned their roll ; the first
movement of the cart was hailed by a veritable
tumult

Only the women who squatted round the
gallows had not moved from their position of
vantage ; one of these Maegaeras was quietly
readjusting the rope, which had got out of
place.

But all the men and some of the women were
literally besieging the cart, and threatening the
soldiers, who stood between them and the
object of their fury.

It seemed as if nothing now could save
D6roulMe and Juliette from an immediate and
horrible death.

'*A mortt A mortl A la lanteme Us
trattresi''

Santerre himself, who had shouted himself
hoarse, was at a loss what to do. He had sent
one man to the nearest cavalry barracks, but
reinforcements would still be some little time
coming ; whilst in the meanwhile his men were
getting exhausted, and the mob, more and more

THE FRUCTTOOR RIOTS 293

excited, threatened to break through their line
at every moment.

There was not another second to be lost.

Santerre was for letting the mob have its
way, and he would willingly have thrown it the
prey for which it clamoured ; but orders were
orders, and in the year I. of the Revolution it
was not good to disobey.

At this supreme moment of perplexity he
suddenly felt a respectful touch on his arm.

Close behind him a soldier of the National
Guard — not one of his own men — was standing
at attention, and holding a small, folded paper
in his hand.

'* Sent to you by the Minister of Justice,"
whispered the soldier hurriedly. " The citizen-
deputies have watched the tumult from the
Hall ; they say, you must not lose an in-
stant."

Santerre withdrew from the front rank, up
against the side of the cart, where a rough
stable lantern had been fixed. He took the
paper from the soldier's hand, and, hastily tear-
ing it open, he read it by the dim light of the
lantern.

As he read, his thick, coarse features ex-
pressed the keenest satisfaction.

**You have two more men with you?" he
asked quickly.

**Yes, citizen," replied the man, pointing to-

294 I WILL REPAY

wards his right ; ** and the Citizen- Minister said
you would give me two more.**

"You'll take the prisoners quietly across
to the Prison of the Temple — you understand
that?"

" Yes, citizen ; Citizen Merlin has given me
full instructions. You can have the cart drawn
back a little more under the shadow of the
portico, where the prisoners can be made to
alight ; they can then be given into my charge.
You in the meantime are to stay here with your
men, round the empty cart, as long as you can.
Reinforcements have been sent for, and must
soon be here. When they arrive you are to move
along with the cart, as if you were making for the
Luxembourg Prison. This manoeuvre will give
us time to deliver the prisoners safely at the
Temple."

The man spoke hurriedly and peremptorily,
and Santerre was only too ready to obey. He
felt relieved at thought of reinforcements, and
glad to be rid of the responsibility of conducting
such troublesome prisoners.

The thick mist, which grew more and more
dense, favoured the new manoeuvre, and the
constant roll of drums drowned the hastily given
orders.

The cart was drawn back into the deepest
shadow of the great portico, and whilst the mob
were howling their loudest, and yelling out

THE FRUCTIDOR RIOTS 295

frantic demands for the traitors, D6roul^de and
Juliette were summarily ordered to step out of
the cart. No one saw them, for the darkness
here was intense.

** Follow quietly ! " whispered a raucous voice
in their ears as they did so, ** or my orders are
to shoot you where you stand."

But neither of them had any wish for resist-
ance. Juliette, cold and numb, was clinging to
D6roul6de, who had placed a protecting arm
round her.

Santerre had told off two of his men to join
the new escort of the prisoners, and presently
the small party, skirting the walls of the Palais
de Justice, began to walk rapidly away from the
scene of the riot.

D6roul6de noted that some half-dozen men
seemed to be surrounding him and Juliette, but
the drizzling rain blurred every outline. The
blackness of the night too had become ab-
solutely dense, and in the distance the cries of
the populace grew more and more faint.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE UNEXPECTED

The small party walked on in silence. It
seemed to consist of a very few men of the
National Guard, whom Santerre had placed
under the command of the soldier who had
transmitted to him the orders of the Citizen-
Deputies.

Juliette and D6roulede both vaguely won-
dered whither they were being led ; to some
other prison mayhap, away from the fury of
the populace. They were conscious of a sense
of satisfaction at thought of being freed from
that pack of raging wild beasts.

Beyond that they cared nothing.

Both felt already the shadow of death
hovering over them. The supreme moment
of their lives had come, and had found them
side by side.

What neither fear nor remorse, sorrow nor
joy, could do, that the great and mighty Shadow
accomplished in a trice.

Juliette, looking death bravely in the face,
held out her hand, and sought that of the man
she loved.
I 296

THE UNEXPECTED 297

There was not one word spoken between
them, not even a murmur.

D6roulede, with the unerring instinct of his
own unselfish passion, understood all that the
tiny hand wished to convey to him.

In a moment everything was forgotten save
the joy of this touch. Death, or the fear of
death, had ceased to exist. Life was beautiful,
and in the soul of these two human creatures
there was perfect peace, almost perfect happi-
ness.

With one grasp of the hand they had sought
and found one another's soul. What mattered
the yelling crowd, the noise and tumult of this
sordid world? They had found one another,
and, hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, they
had gone off wandering into the land of dreams,
where dwelt neither doubt nor treachery, where
there was nothing to forgive.

He no longer said : ** She does not love me —
would she have betrayed me else ? " He felt
the clinging, trustful touch of her hand, and
knew that, with all her faults, her great sin and
her lasting sorrow, her woman's heart, Heaven's
most priceless treasure, was indeed truly his.

And she knew that he had forgiven — nay, that
he had naught to forgive — for Love is sweet
and tender, and judges not. Love is Love —
whole, trustful, passionate. Love is perfect
understanding and perfect peace.

298 I WILL REPAY

And so they followed their escort whitherso-
ever it chose to lead them.

Their eyes wandered aimlessly over the
mist- laden landscape of this portion of deserted
Paris. They had turned away from the river
now, and were following the Rue des Arts. Close
by on the right was the dismal little hostelry,
**La Cruche Cass^e," where Sir Percy Blakeney
lived. D^roul^de, as they neared the place,
caught himself vaguely wondering what had
become of his English friend.

But it would take more than the ingenuity
of the Scarlet Pimpernel to get two noted
prisoners out of Paris to-day. Even if

-Halt!"

The word of command rang out clearly
and distinctly through the rain-soaked atmo-
sphere.

D6roulede threw up his head and listened.
Something strange and unaccountable in that
same word of command had struck his sensitive
ear.

Yet the party had halted, and there was a
click as of bayonets or muskets levelled ready
to fire.

All had happened in less than a few seconds.
The next moment there was a loud cry :

'*A mot, D^roul^de! *tis the Scarlet Pim-
pernel ! "

A vigorous blow from an unseen hand had

THE UNEXPECTED 299

knocked down and extinguished the nearest
street lantern.

D6roul6de felt that he and Juliette were
being hastily dragged under an adjoining door-
way even as the cheery voice echoed along
the narrow street.

Half-a-dozen men were struggling below in
the mud, and there was a plentiful supply of
honest English oaths. It looked as if the
men of the National Guard had fallen upon one
another, and had it not been for those same
English oaths perhaps D6roulede and Juliette
would have been slower to understand.

"Well done, Tony! Gadzooks, Ffoulkes,
that was a smart bit of work ! "

The lazy, pleasant voice was unmistakable,
but, God in heaven ! where did it come from ?

Of one thing there could be no doubt. The
two men despatched by Santerre were lying
disabled on the ground, whilst three other
soldiers were busy pinioning them with ropes.

What did it all mean ?

*' La, friend D6roul^de ! you had not thought,
I trust, that I would leave Mademoiselle Juliette
in such a demmed, uncomfortable hole ? "

And there, close beside D6roul^de and Juli-
ette, stood the tall figure of the Jacobin orator,
the bloodthirsty Citizen Lenoir. The two
young people gazed and gazed, then looked
again, dumfounded, hardly daring to trust their

300 I WILL REPAY

vision, for through the grime-covered mask
of the gigantic coal-heaver a pair of merry
blue eyes was regarding them with lazy-
amusement.

" La ! I do look a miserable object, I know,"
said the pseudo coal-heaver at last, ''but 'twas
the only way to get those murderous devils
to do what I wanted. A thousand pardons,
mademoiselle ; 'twas I brought you to such a
terrible pass, but la ! you are amongst friends
now. Will you deign to forgive me ? "

Juliette looked up. Her great, earnest eyes,
now swimming in tears, sought those of the
brave man who had so nobly stood by her and
the man she loved.

" Blakeney " began D6roulMe.

But Sir Percy quickly interrupted him :

" Hush, man ! we have but a few moments.
Remember you are in Paris still, and the Lord
only knows how we shall all get out of this
murderous city to-night. I have said that you
and mademoiselle are among friends. That
is all for the moment. I had to get you to-
gether, or I should have failed. I could only
succeed by subjecting you and mademoiselle
to terrible indignities. Our League could plan
but one rescue, and I had to adopt the best
means at my command to have you condemned
and led away together. Faith ! *' headded, with
a pleasant laugh, ** my friend Tinville will not

THE UNEXPECTED 301

be pleased when he realises that Citizen Lenoir
has dragged the Citizen- Deputies by the nose,"*

Whilst he spoke he had led D6roul6de and
Juliette into a dark and narrow room on the
ground floor of the hostelry, and presently he
called loudly for Brogard, the host of this un-
inviting abode.

** Brogard ! " shouted Sir Percy. " Where is
that ass Brogard? La! man/' he added as
Citizen Brogard, obsequious and fussy, and
with pockets stuffed with English gold, came
shuffling along, ** where do you hide your en-
gaging countenance? Here! another length
of rope for the gallant soldiers. Bring them in
here, then give them that potion down their
throats, as I have prescribed. Demm it! I
wish we need not have brought them along,
but that devil Santerre might have been sus-
picious, else. They'll come to no harm, though,
and can do us no mischief."

He prattled along merrily. Innately kind and
chivalrous, he wished to give D6roul6de and Juli-
ette time to recover from their dazed surprise.

The transition from dull despair to buoyant
hope had been so sudden : it had all happened
in less than thre^ minutes.

The scuffle had been short and sudden out-
side. The two soldiers of Santerre had been
taken completely unawares, and the three young
lieutenants of the Scarlet Pimpernel had fallen

I

302 I WILL REPAY

on them with such vigour that they had hardly
had time to utter a cry of ** Help ! "

Moreover, that cry would have been useless.
The night was dark and wet, and those citizens
who felt ready for excitement were busy mob-
bing the Hall of Justice, a mile and a half
away. One or two heads had appeared at the
small windows of the squalid houses opposite,
but it was too dark to see anything, and the
scuffle had very quickly subsided.

All was silent now in the Rue des Arts, and
in the grimy coflfee-room of the Cruche Cass6e
two soldiers of the National Guard were lying
bound and gagged, whilst three others were
gaily laughing, and wiping their rain-soaked
hands and faces.

In the midst of them all stood the tall, athletic
figure of the bold adventurer who had planned
this impudent coup.

*' La ! we Ve got so far, friends, haven't we ? "
he said cheerily, ** and now for the immediate
future. We must all be out of Paris to-night,
or the guillotine for the lot of us to-morrow."

He spoke gaily, and with that pleasant drawl
of his which was so well known in the fashion-
able assemblies of London ; but there was a ring
of earnestness in his voice, and his lieutenants
looked up at him, ready to obey him in all
things, but aware that danger was looming
threateningly ahead.

THE UNEXPECTED 303

Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Sir Andrew
Ffoulkes, and Lord Hastings, dressed as soldiers
of the National Guard, had played (heir part to
perfection. Lord Hastings had presented the
order to Santerre, and the three young bucks,
at the word of command from their chief, had
fallen upon and overpowered the two men
whom the commandant of Paris had despatched
to look after the prisoners.

So far all was well. But how to get out of
Paris? Everyone looked to the Scarlet Pim-
pernel for guidance.

Sir Percy now turned to Juliette, and with
the consummate grace which the elaborate
etiquette of the times demanded, he made her
a courtly bow.

"Mademoiselle de Marny," he said, "allow
me to conduct you to a room, which though
unworthy of your presence will, nevertheless,
enable you to rest quietly for a few minutes,
whilst I give my friend D6roulede further advice
and instructions. In the room you will find a
disguise, which I pray you to don with all haste.
La! they are filthy rags, I own, but your life
and — and ours depend upon your help."

Gallantly he kissed the tips of her fingers,
and opened the door of an adjoining room to
enable her to pass through ; then he stood
aside, so that her final look, as she went, might
be for D6roulede.

304 I WILL REPAY

As soon as the door had closed upon her he
once more turned to the men.

'* Those uniforms will not do now," he said

• peremptorily ; " there are bundles of abominable
clothes here, Tony. Will you all don them as
quickly as you can } We must all look as filthy

* a band of sansculottes to-night as ever walked
the streets of Paris."

His lazy drawl had deserted him now. He
was the man of action and of thought, the bold
adventurer who held the lives of his friends in
the hollow of his hand.

The four men hastily obeyed. Lord Anthony
Dewhurst — one of the most elegant dandies
of London society — had brought forth from a
dank cupboard a bundle of clothes, mere rags,
filthy but useful.

Within ten minutes the change was accom-
plished, and four dirty, slouchy figures stood
confronting their chief

"That's capital!" said Sir Percy merrily.
'* Now for Mademoiselle de Marny."

Hardly had he spoken when the door of the
adjoining room was pushed open, and a horrible
apparition stood before the men. A woman in
filthy bodice and skirt, with face covered in
grime, her yellow hair, matted and greasy, thrust
under a dirty and crumpled cap.

A shout of rapturous delight greeted this
uncanny apparition.

THE UNEXPECTED 305

Juliette, like the true woman she was, had
found all her energy and spirits now that she
felt that she had an important part to play.
She woke from her dream to realise that noble
friends had risked their lives for the man she
loved and for her.

Of herself she did not think ; she only rp-
membered that her presence of mind, her
physical and mental strength, would be needed
to carry the rescue to a successful end.

Therefore with the rags of a Paris tricotteme
she had also donned her personality. She
played her part valiantly, and one look at the
perfection of her disguise was sufficient to assure
the leader of this band of heroes that his instruc-
tions would be carried through to the letter.

Deroul^de too now looked the ragged
sansculotte to the life, with bare and muddy
feet, frayed breeches, and shabby, black-shag
spencer. The four men stood waiting together
with Juliette, whilst Sir Percy gave them his
final instructions.

** Well mix with the crowd," he said, "and
do all that the crowd does. It is for us to see
that that unruly crowd does what we want.
Mademoiselle de Marny, a thousand (Congratu-
lations. I entreat you to take hold of my friend
DeroulMe*s hand, and not to let go of it, on
any pretext whatever. La ! not a difficult task,
I ween,*' he added, with his genial smile ; "and
u

3o6 I WILL REPAY

yours, D6roul6de, is equally easy. I enjoin
you to take charge of Mademoiselle Juliette,
and on no account to leave her side until we
are out of Paris."

/'Out of Paris!" echoed D6roul6de, with a
troubled sigh.

''Aye!" rejoined Sir Percy boldly; "out of
Paris ! with a howling mob at our heels caus-
ing the authorities to take double precautions.
And above all remember, friends, that our
rallying cry is the shrill call of the sea-mew
thrice repeated. Follow it until you are outside
the gates of Paris. Once there, listen for it
again ; it will lead you to freedom and safety at
last. Aye ! Outside Paris, by the grace of God."

The hearts of his hearers thrilled as they
heard him. Who could help but follow this
brave and gallant adventurer, with the magic
voice and the noble bearing ?

" And now en route ! " said Blakeney finally,
"that ass Santerrc will have dispersed the
pack of yelling hyenas with his cavalry by now.
They'll to the Temple prison to find their prey ;
well in their wake. A mot, friends! and re-
member the sea-guirs cry."

D6roulede drew Juliette's hand in his.

"We are ready," he said; "and God bless
the Scarlet Pimpernel."

Then the five men, with Juliette in their
midst, went out into the street once more.

CHAPTER XXIX

PfeRE LACHAISE

It was not difficult to guess which way the
crowd had gone ; yells, hoots, and hoarse
cries could be heard from the farther side of
the river.

Citizen Santerre had been unable to keep
the mob back until the arrival of the cavalry
reinforcements. Within five minutes of the
abduction of D^roul^de and Juliette the crowd
had broken through the line of soldiers, and
had stormed the cart, only to find it empty, and
the prey disappeared.

" They are safe in the Temple by now ! "
shouted Santerre hoarsely, in savage triumph
at seeing them all baffled.

At first it seemed as if the wrath of the
infuriated populace, fooled in its lust for ven-
geance, would vent itself against the com-
mandant of Paris and his soldiers; for a
moment even Santerre's ruddy cheeks had
paled at the sudden vision of this unlooked
for danger.

Then just as suddenly the cry was raised.

'•To the Temple!"
307

3o8 I WILL REPAY

*' To the Temple ! To the Temple ! " came
in ready response.

The cry was soon taken up by the entire
crowd, and in less than two minutes the pur-
lieus of the Hall of Justice were deserted, and
the Pont St Michel, then the Cit6 and the Pont
au Change, swarmed with the rioters. Thence
along the north bank of the river, and up the
Rue du Temple, the people still yelling, mutter-
ing, singing the " Ca tra,** and shouting : ''A
la lanteme I A la lanteme I "

Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of
followers had found the Pont Neuf and the
adjoining streets practically deserted. A few
stragglers from the crowd, soaked through with
the rain, their enthusiasm damped, and their
throats choked with the mist, were sulkily re-
turning to their homes.

The desultory group of six sansculottes
attracted little or no attention, and Sir Percy
boldly challenged every passer-by.

**The way to the Rue du Temple, citizen?"
he asked once or twice, or :

*' Have they hung the traitor yet ? Can you
tell me, citizeness ? *'

A grunt or an oath were the usual replies,
but no one took any further notice of the
gigantic coal-heaver and his ragged friends.

At the corner of one of the cross streets,
between the Rue du Temple and the Rue des

PfeRE LACHAISE 309

Archives, Sir Percy Blakeney suddenly turned
to his followers :

" We are close to the rabble now," he said in
a whisper, and speaking in English; **do you
all follow the nearest stragglers, and get as
soon as possible into the thickest of the crowd.
We'll meet again outside the prison — ^and re-
member the sea-gull's cry."

He did not wait for an answer, and presently
disappeared in the mist.

Already a few stragglers, hangers-on of the
multitude, were gradually coming into view,
and the yells could be distinctly heard. The
mob had evidently assembled in the great
square outside the prison, and was loudly de-
manding the object of its wrath.

The moment for cool-headed action was at
hand. The Scarlet Pimpernel had planned jhe
whole thing, but it was for his followers and for
those, whom he was endeavouring to rescue from
certain death, to help him heart and soul.

D6roulede's grasp tightened on Juliette s little
hand.

"Are you frightened, my beloved?" he
whispered.

** Not whilst you are near me," she mur-
mured in reply.

A few more minutes* walk up the Rue des
Archives and they were in the thick of the
crowd. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Lord Anthony

3IO I WILL REPAY

Dewhurst, and Lord Hastings, the three
Englishmen, were in front; D6roulMe and
Juliette immediately behind them.

The mob itself now carried them along. A
motley throng they were, soaked through with
the rain, drunk with their own baffled rage, and
with the brandy which they had imbibed.

Everyone was shouting ; the women louder
than the rest ; one of them was dragging the
length of rope, which might still be useful.

" pi ira I fa ira 1 A la lanteme 1 A la Ian-
terne 1 les trattres I "

And D6roulede, holding Juliette by the hand,
shouted lustily with them :

*'(:atra.r'

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes turned, and laughed.
It was rare sport for these young bucks, and
they all entered into the spirit of the situation.
They all shouted ** A la lanterned' egging and
encouraging those around them.

D6roul^de and Juliette felt the intoxication
of the adventure. They were drunk with the
joy of their reunion, and seized with the wild,
mad, passionate desire for freedom and for
life. . . . Life and love !

So they pushed and jostled on in the mud,
followed the crowd, sang and yelled louder than
any of them. Was not that very crowd the
great bulwark of their safety ?

As well have sought for the proverbial needle

PfeRE LACHAISE 311

in the haystack, as for two escaped prisoners in
this mad, heaving throng.

The large open space in front of the Temple
Prison looked like one great, seething, black
mass.

The darkness was almost thick here, the
ground like a morass, with inches of clayey
mud, which stuck to everything, whilst the
sparse lanterns, hung to the prison walls and
beneath the portico, threw practically no light
into the square.

As the little band, composed of the three
Englishmen, and of D6roul6de, holding Juliette
by the hand, emerged into the open space,
they heard a strident cry, like that of a sea-mew
thrice repeated, and a hoarse voice shouting
from out the darkness :

'' Ma foil rU not believe that the prisoners
are in the Temple now ! It is my belief, friends,
citizens, that we have been fooled once more ! "

The voice, with its strange, unaccountable
accent, which seemed to belong to no province
of France, dominated the almost deafening
noise; it penetrated through, even into the
brandy-soddened minds of the multitude, for
the suggestion was received with renewed
shouts of the wildest wrath.

Like one great, living, seething mass the
crowd literally bore down upon the huge and
frowning prison. Pushing, jostling, yelling, the

312 I WILL REPAY

women screaming, the men cursing, it seemed
as if that awesome day — the 14th of July — was
to have its sanguinary counterpart to-night, as
if the Temple were destined to share the fate of
the Bastille.

Obedient to their leader's orders the three
young Englishmen remained in the thick of the
crowd : together with D6roul6de they contrived
to form a sturdy rampart round Juliette, effectu-
ally protecting her against rough buffetings.

On their right, towards the direction of M6nil-
montant, the sea-mew's cry at intervals gave
them strength and courage.

The foremost rank of the crowd had reached
the portico of the building, and, with howls
and snatches of their gutter song, were loudly
clamouring for the guardian of the grim
prison.

No one appeared ; the great gates with their
massive bars and hinges remained silent and
defiant.

The crowd was becoming dangerous : whispers
of the victory of the Bastille, five years ago,
engendered thoughts of pillage and of arson.

Then the strident voice was heard again :

** Pardi! the prisoners are not in the Temple !
The dolts have allowed them to escape, and
now are afraid of the wrath of the people ! "

It was strange how easily the mob assimilated
this new idea. Perhaps the dark, frowning

PfeRE LACHAISE 313

block of massive buildings had overawed them
with its peaceful strength, perhaps the dripping
rain and oozing clay had damped their desire
for an immediate storming of the grim citadel ;
perhaps it was merely the human characteristic
of a wish for something new, something un-
expected.

Be that as it may, the cry was certainly taken
up with marvellous, quick-change rapidity.

" The prisoners have escaped ! The prisoners
have escaped ! "

Some were for proceeding with the storming
of the Temple, but they were in the minority.
All along, the crowd had been more inclined for
private revenge than for martial deeds of
valour; the Bastille had been taken by day-
light ; the effort might not have been so success-
ful on a pitch-black night such as this, when
one could not see one*s hand before one's eyes,
and the drizzling rain went through to the
marrow.

'■ They Ve got through one of the barriers by
now ! " suggested the same voice from out the
darkness.

** The barriers — the barriers ! " came in sheep-
like echo from the crowd.

The little group of fugitives and their friends
tightened their hold on one another.

They had understood at last.

** It is for us to see that the crowd does

314 I WILL REPAY

what we want," the Scarlet Pimpernel had
said.

He wanted it to take him and his friends out
of Paris, and, by God ! he was like to succeed.

Juliette's heart within her beat almost to chok-
ing ; her strong little hand gripped D6roul6de's
fingers with the wild strength of a mad exulta-
tion.

Next to the man to whom she had given her
love and her very soul she admired and looked
up to the remarkable and noble adventurer, the
high-bom and exquisite dandy, who with grime-
covered face, and strong limbs encased in filthy
clothes, was playing the most glorious part
ever enacted upon the stage.

** To the barriers — to the barriers ! "

Like a herd of wild horses, driven by the
whip of the herdsmen, the mob began to scatter
in all directions. Not knowing what it wanted,
not knowing what it would find, half forgetting
the very cause and object of its wrath, it made
one gigantic rush for the gates of the great
city through which the prisoners were supposed
to have escaped.

The three Englishmen and D6roul6de, with
Juliette well protected in their midst, had not
joined the general onrush as yet. The crowd
in the open place was still very thick, the out-
ward-branching streets were very narrow:
through these the multitude, scampering, hurry-

PfeRE LACHAISE 315

ing, scurrying, like a human torrent let out of a
whirlpool, rushed down headlong towards the
barriers.

Up the Rue Turbigo to the Belleville gate,
the Rue des Filles, and the Rue du Chemin Vert,
towards Popincourt, they ran, knocking each
other down, jostling the weaker ones on one
side, trampling others underfoot. They were
all rough, coarse creatures, accustomed to these
wild bousculades, ready to pick themselves up,
again after any number of falls ; whilst the mud
was slimy and soft to tumble on, and those
who did the trampling had no shoes on their
feet.

They rushed out from the dark, open place,
these creatures of the night, into streets darker
still.

On they ran — on ! on ! — now in thick, heaving
masses, anon in loose, straggling groups —
some north, some south, some east, some west.

But it was from the east that came the sea-
gull's cry.

The little band ran boldly towards the east.
Down the Rue de la Republique they followed
their leader s call. The crowd was very thick
here ; the Barriere M6nilmontant was close by,
and beyond it there was the cemetery of P6re
Lachaise. It was the nearest gate to the
Temple Prison, and the mob wanted to be up
and doing, not to spend too much time running

3i6 I WILL REPAY

along the muddy streets and getting wet and
cold, but to repeat the glorious exploits of the
14th of July, and capture the barriers of Paris
by force of will rather than force of arms.

In this rushing mob the four men, with
Juliette in their midst, remained quite unchal-
lenged, mere units in an unruly crowd.

In a quarter of an hour M6nilmontant was
reached.

The great gates of the city were well
guarded by detachments of the National
Guard, each under command of an officer.
Twenty strong at most— what was that against
such a throng ?

Who had ever dreamed of Paris being
stormed from within ?

At every gate to the north and east of the
city there was now a rabble some four or five
thousand strong, wanting it knew not what.
Everyone had forgotten what it was that
caused him or her to rush on so blindly, so
madly, towards the nearest barrier.

But everyone knew that he or she wanted to
get through that barrier, to attack the soldiery,
to knock down the captain of the Guard.

And with a wild cry every city gate was
stormed.

Like one huge wind-tossed wave, the popu-
lace on that memorable night of Fructidor,
broke against the cordon of soldiery, that

PfeRE LACHAISE 317

vainly tried to keep it back. Men and women,
drunk with brandy and exultation, shouted
*' Quatorze Juillet ! '' and amidst curses and
threats demanded the opening of the gates.

The people of France would have its will.

Was it not the supreme lord and ruler of the
land, the arbiter of the Fate of this great,
beautiful, and maddened country ?

The National Guard was powerless ; the
officers in command could offer but feeble
resistance.

The desultory fire, which in the darkness
and the pouring rain did very little harm, had
the effect of further infuriating the mob.

The drizzle had turned to a deluge, a verit-
able heavy summer downpour, with occasional
distant claps of thunder and incessant sheet
lightning, which ever and anon illumined with
its weird, fantastic flash this heaving throng,
these begrimed faces, crowned with red caps of
Liberty, these witchlike female creatures with
wet, straggly hair and gaunt, menacing arms.

Within half-an-hour the people of Paris was
outside its own gates.

Victory was complete. The Guard did not
resist ; the officers had surrendered ; the
great and mighty rabble had had its way.

Exultant, it swarmed around the fortifica-
tions and along the terrains vogues which it
had conquered by its will.

31 8 I WILL REPAY

But the downpour was continuous, and with
victory came satiety — satiety coupled with wet
skins, muddy feet, tired, wearied bodies, and
throats parched with continual shouting.

At M6niImontant, where the crowd had
been thickest, the tempers highest, and the
yells most strident, there now stretched before
this tired, excited throng, the peaceful vastness
of the cemetery of P6re Lachaise.

The great aJleys of sombre monuments, the
weird cedars with their fantastic branches, like
arms of a hundred ghosts, quelled and awed
these hooting masses of degraded humanity.

The silent majesty of this city of the dead
seemed to frown with withering scorn on the
passions of the sister city.

Instinctively the rabble was cowed. The
cemetery looked dark, dismal, and deserted.
The flashes of lightning seemed to reveal
ghostlike processions of the departed heroes
of France, wandering silently amidst the
tombs.

And the populace turned with a shudder
away from this vast place of eternal peace.

From within the cemetery gates, there was
suddenly heard the sound of a sea-mew calling
thrice to its mate. And five dark figures,
wrapped in cloaks, gradually detached them-
selves from the throng, and one by one slipped
into the grqunds of P6re Lachaise through

PfeRE LACHAISE 319

that break in the wall, which is quite close to
the main entrance.

Once more the sea-gull's cry.

Those in the crowd who heard it, shivered
beneath their dripping clothes. They thought
it was a soul in pain risen from one of the
graves, and some of the women, forgetting the
last few years of godlessness, hastily crossed
themselves, and muttered an invocation to the
Virgin Mary.

Within the gates all was silent and at peace.
The sodden earth gave forth no echo of the
muffled footsteps, which slowly crept towards
the massive block of stone, which covers the
graves of the immortal lovers — Ab61ard and
Heloise.

CHAPTER XXX

CONCLUSION

Therb is but little else to record.

History has told us how, shamefaced, tired,
dripping, the great, all-powerful people of Paris,
quietly slunk back to their homes, even before
the first cock-crow in the villages beyond the
gates, acclaimed the pale streak of dawn.

But long before that, even before the church
bells of the great city had tolled the midnight
hour. Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of
followers had reached the little tavern which
stands close to the farthest gate of P^re
Lachaise.

Without a word, like six silent ghosts, they
had traversed the vast cemetery, and reached
the quiet hostelry, where the sounds of the
seething revolution only came, attenuated by
their passage through the peaceful city of the
dead.

English gold had easily purchased silence
and good will from the half-starved keeper of
this wayside inn. A huge travelling chaise
already stood in readiness, and four good
Flanders horses had been pawing the ground

320

CONCLUSION 321

impatiently for the past half hour. From the
window of the chaise old P6tronelle's face, wet
with anxious tears, was peering anxiously.

A cry of joy and surprise escaped D6roulede
and Juliette, and both turned, with a feeling akin
to awe, towards the wonderful man who had
planned and carried through this bold adventure.

*' Nay, my friend," said Sir Percy, speaking
more especially to D6roul6de ; "if you only
knew how simple it all was ! Gold can do so
many things, and my only merit seems to be
the possession of plenty of that commodity.
You told me yourself how you had provided
for old P6tronelle. Under the most solemn
assurance that she would meet her young
mistress here, I got her to leave Paris. She
came out most bravely this morning in one of
the market carts. She is so obviously a woman
of the people, that no one suspected her. As for
the worthy couple who keep this wayside hostel,
they have been well paid, and money soon pro-
cures a chaise and horses. My English friends
and I, we have our own passports, and one for
Mademoiselle Juliette, who must travel as an
English lady, with her old nurse, P6tronelle.
There are some decent clothes in readiness for
us all in the inn. A quarter of an hour in which
to don them and we must on our way. You can
use your own passport, of course ; your arrest has
been so very sudden that it has not yet been

322 I WILL REPAY

cancelled, and we have an eight hours' start of
our enemies. They'll wake up to-morrow morn-
ing, begad ! and find that you have slipped
through their fingers."

He spoke with easy carelessness, and that
slow drawl of his, as if he were talking airy
nothings in a London drawing-room, instead of
recounting the most daring, most colossal piece
of effrontery the adventurous brain of man
could conceive.

D6roulMe could say nothing. His own
noble heart was too full of gratitude towards
his friend to express it all in a few words.

And time, of course, was precious.

Within the prescribed quarter of an hour the
little band of heroes had doffed their grimy,
ragged clothes, and now appeared dressed as
respectable bourgeois of Paris en route for the
country. Sir Percy Blakeney had donned the
livery of a coachman of a well-to-do house,
whilst Lord Anthony Dewhurst wore that of an
English lacquey.

Five minutes later D6roulede had lifted
Juliette into the travelling chaise, and in spite
of fatigue, of anxiety, and emotion, it was im-
measurable happiness to feel her arm encircling
his shoulders in perfect joy and trust.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Hastings
joined them inside the chaise ; Lord Anthony
sat next to Sir Percy on the box.

CONCLUSION 323

And whilst the crowd of Paris was still wonder-
ing why it had stormed the gates of the city,
the escaped prisoners were borne along the
muddy roads of France at breakneck speed
northward to the coast.

Sir Percy Blakeney held the reins himself.
With his noble heart full of joy, the gallant
adventurer himself drove his friends to safety.

They had an eight hours' start, and the
league of the Scarlet Pimpernel had done its
work thoroughly : well provided with passports,
and with relays awaiting them at every station
of fifty miles or so, the journey, though weari-
some was free from further adventure.

At Le Havre the little party embarked on
board Sir Percy Blakeney's yacht the Day-
dream, where they met Madame D6roulMe
and Anne Mie.

The two ladies, acting under the instructions
of Sir Percy, had, as originally arranged, pur-
sued their journey northwards, to the populous
seaport town.

Anne Mie's first meeting with Juliette was
intensely pathetic. The poor little cripple had
spent the last few days in an agony of remorse,
whilst the heavy travelling chaise bore her
farther and farther away from Paris.

She thought Juliette dead, and Paul a prey
to despair, and her tender soul ached when
she remembered that it was she who had given

324 I WILL REPAY

the final deadly stab to the heart of the man
she loved.

Hers was the nature born to abnegation :
aye ! and one destined to find bliss therein.
And when one glance in Paul D6roul6de*s face
told her that she was forgiven, her cup of joy
at seeing him happy beside his beloved, was
unalloyed with any bitterness.

It was in the beautiful, rosy dawn of one of
the last days of that memorable Fructidor, when
Juliette and Paul D^roulMe, standing on the
deck of the Daydream, saw the shores of
France gradually receding from their view.

D6roul^de*s arm was round his beloved, her
golden hair, fanned by the breeze, brushed lightly
against his clieek.

** Madonna! " he murmured.

She turned her head to him. Itwas thefirsttime
that they were quite alone, the first time that all
thought of danger had become a mere dream.

What had the future in store for them,
in that beautiful, strange land to which the
graceful yacht was swiftly bearing them 1

England, the land of freedom, would shelter
their happiness and their joy ; and they looked
out towards the North, where lay, still hidden
in the arms of the distant horizon, the white
cliffs of Albion, whilst the mist even now was

rapping in its obliterating embrace the shores

CONCLUSION 325

of the land where they had both suffered, where
they had both learned to love.

He took her in his arms.

" My wife ! " he whispered.

The rosy light touched her golden hair ; he
raised her face to his, and soul met soul in one
long, passionate kiss.

THE RIVBRSIDB PRESS UMITHD, BOmBURGH.

i

S5

^'''^ 53°'' ea B127

PRe029.R25l15

CI

Slififord

3 6105 035 964 472

i

STANFORD UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

CECIL H. GREEN LIBRARY

STANFORD, CALIFORNIA 94305-6004

(415) 723-1493

All books may be recalled after 7 days

j^^ DATE DUE